


Wasteland Wanderings

by shanrelle



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gallows Humor, Ghouls, Handcuffs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Long-Term Relationship(s), Masturbation, Oral Sex, Regret, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 118,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanrelle/pseuds/shanrelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of random encounters, humorous anecdotes, and tense situations surrounding the awkward romance of my Female Sole Survivor of Vault 111, Macha, and everyone's favorite ghoul paramour, John Hancock. Some chapters will be NSFW.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evolution

John paused at lounge entrance, steeling himself. Magnolia's sultry voice hung heavily in the air, along with the smoke from patrons and the smell of booze and electricity. He could hear the crackle of the third rail even here, and if he had any hair left, the quick pops would have made it stand on end in nervous anticipation. He frowned. What was wrong with him? This wasn't like him? Not at all. This was HIS Town. HIS bar. He fucking owned this place. He was just getting a drink in his own goddamn bar. Nothing more. He shouldn't feel so.. edgy over something so simple. He just needed a blast of Jet, he rationalized. Was coming down off his last high and just a bit tightly wound. That was all.

He contemplated checking his reflection in the nearby bathroom mirror, but he already knew what he would see. Same burnt and twisted skin. Same dark eyes that had seen too much and same scarred body that had done too little. Yet, he still smiled, pausing to straighten his tricorn for the thousandth time before asking Ham. "How do I look?"

The bouncer raised a hairless brow ridge at the question, but complied. "Looking sharp, Mayor Hancock, as per usual."

John chuckled mirthlessly. "Good man, Ham. Bad liar. But that's why I like you. Here, " he exclaimed offering the bouncer a small square box. "From my personal stash. A little reminder to vote for me next election."

It was a running joke. One he had with the entire town of Goodneigher. Everyone knew there had been no election. WOULD be no election in the future. He was the Mayor and so far no one had contested it. Well, no one publicly. There was that one incident .. but Fahrenheit had assured him that after her 'conversation' with the protester, there wasn't enough of him left to feed the radroaches, let alone continue.

"Much obliged." Pocketing the Mentats box , Ham sidestepped his mayor and let the man pass through the archway to descend into the smoky darkness below.

John stopped just at the threshold, once again fidgeting with his hat as he took in his surroundings. As his eyes adjusted in the dim light, he saw her shape materialize out of the haze. Magnolia stepped off the stage for a break, leaving the room exposed to the wild thumping of his heart- which surly everyone could hear- as Matcha came into view. The lone survivor of Vault 111 was hunched over a bottle of Gwinnett Stout, piled next to several already empty bottles, methodically pulling the label off. She already had a neat pile going on the bar top: evidence of how she had been entertaining herself thus far. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back in two pig tails, which spiraled lazily down her back. He gaze swept over her form, following it down until it stopped on the tiny mole just under her right shoulder. He stared fixated at the mole for a moment before sucking in a breath. It was tantalizing him, that dark blot on such smooth skin, peaking out just above the strap of her tank top. His eyes traced the curve of her shoulder blade, under her arm towards her pert-

"Mayor." The citizen closest to him greeted him. John stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to recall his name. Steven? Joel? Why couldn't he recall? He knew practically every one in Goodneighbor. Damn! He needed more mentats. That was it. Or maybe it was all the rads effecting his brain were finally getting to him.

"Citizen." He replied a bit more curtly than he intended; unsure if he was irked by his lack of recall, or the citizen's interruption of his thoughts. John adjusted his hat the final time and approached the bar.

"Good evening, Mayor Hancock." Whitechapel tipped his bowler hat in salute. "Your usual, sir?"

"Yeah. Hit me."

He sat down next to her, flipping his coat behind his seat as Whitechapel handed him a beer and a shot of whiskey.

"Evening." The shot of whiskey disappeared with a satisfied shudder. "Been waiting long?"

She turned to him and gave him that half grin of hers. Like one side of her mouth was in rebellion, refusing to turn up with the rest. "Hey Hancock. Yeah.. like 200 years."

She laughed at her own joke, more in derision than in actual humor. "Sorry. Bad joke. I'm just feeling…"

She hesitated a moment, half grin still on her face as she searched for the right word. Hancock noticed a smudge of dirt just below her eye. He drank deep of his beer to resist the sudden urge to wipe it off.

"Nostalgic? Or is it sentimental? " A deep quaff of stout, and she dangled the bottle from her fingers with whimsy. "Maybe a strange combo of the two? Sentilogic? Nostimental? Nevermind."

She made a dismissive gesture with her hand, plunking the empty bottle down. "Another beer, Chappie."

"That's Whitechapel." The robot replied in his Cockney accent, only punctuated by his ire. He snapped the cap of the new bottle with one of his pincers and set the lager before her. She immediately began pulling the label off with her short stubby nails.

"Guess the future isn't at all what you expected?" Hancock teased. "You mean the raiders and super mutants and giant insects don't excite you?"

Half grin again. He noticed a slight dimple as her nose wrinkled. "Things have certainly changed. But then they haven't. There is still a war, a fight for resources and people just trying to eek out a living with whatever the world hands them. " She shrugged.

"Sometimes, it's hard to wrap my mind around. Everything that's gone. I can't think about it too much. Makes my head hurt, then I have to come here and have a drink. So I just.. focus on the things that have stayed the same."

"Oh?" John queried with interest. "Like?"

"You are gonna laugh." Her half a grin became a knowing grin. Not quite reaching her eyes. She adjusted the goggles on top of her head and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"I could use one. Humor me"

"Curse words." She said definitively.

"Curse words?" John echoed. He was lost. Out of all the things he thought she would say, THAT had not been one. He scratched his head. She was predictably unpredictable as always.

"Yes. I am severely disappointed that curse words have not evolved in the slightest in over two hundred years. I thought, at least I will get to learn some great new expletives . Like Flugalnarg! Or something! Anything! Butttttttt noooooooooo.. same old ones. Same boring, uncreative oaths from my day. Shit. Fuck. Ass. Makes me feel old."

Hancock laughed. A full on roar from the belly up, nearly spilling his drink. When he finally was able to get a hold of himself, he stated. "Flugalnarg. The next time we get in trouble on our little outings, I'm screaming that at the top of my seared lungs. Who knows, maybe it will catch on?"

"I told you would laugh." Half smirk again, so dangerously close to being a full smile. "But, I have a theory as to WHY they haven't changed."

"You do, do you?" He motioned for another shot, this time of vodka, slamming it down as he finished his beer.

She slightly shook her head as she watched him switch from hard liquor to beer, then back again. Her steel gray eyes were wide in what he could only describe as shock. Not too be out done, she chugged the rest of her beer before she continued. "Yes. I do. It's because they are so versatile. Think about it. Take the word fuck. It can be a noun. As in, I have no fucks to give today. Nope. All out of fucks."

She gestured with empty hands to the air, shrugging as if not a care in the world. "Then," She took another beer from Whitechapel. "It becomes an adjective."

She downed half the new bottle of stout, holding back a belch. "This beer," She gestured to the rich brown container, "is fucking terrible. It tastes like licking the ass end of a burnt barrel of tar."

John had to take another shot to keep his face serious and not laugh at her colorful and strangely accurate description of Gwinnett's stouter lager.

"Then," She continued. "There is the verb. The act of doing. Fucking. So many uses. As an insult. Go fuck yourself. Never really understood why that was supposed to be a bad thing. I mean, why not just say thank you! Don't mind if I do! Or better yet, fuck someone else."

She leaned in suddenly, staring unwaveringly into his eyes. Hancock gulped, his hands tightening on his beer as she purred in a throaty voice. "Like if someone said, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

He could smell her now. Not the beer, or the smoke, but her. So close to him, he unconsciously licked his lips while staring at hers. "I like the verb."

She pulled back and laughed. And there it was, in all its glory, the full smile. She wiped an errant tear from her eye and smacked him playfully in the arm. It was warm where she had touched him, but only for a moment and the feeling of disappointment when she pulled away surprised him.

"Everyone does." She commented with a sigh as she rested her last beer on her forehead. "Sorry, I'm a mess tonight. Too much to drunk...drink. Waxing philosophical in my beer and talking your ear off."

"Nah. That fell off a long time ago. Not your fault."

She about choked on her beer and John had to thwack her heartily on the back to help her get it down. His fingers lingered on her a moment longer than they should have once she stopped laughing, index resting gently on that teasing mole. He retracted his arm when she examined her now beer drenched shirt.

"And that signals the end of a near perfect night of moping." She sighed, releasing her shirt as she stood. "I'd better stop while I'm ahead. I don't want to wake up with the hang over you are definitely going to have tomorrow. Places to go, bad guys to kill."

She held up her beer in a toast. "Of the people, for the people."

They clinked bottles together as he echoed her toast and she stood, fishing in her pocket for caps to pay.

"No. No. Your caps are no good here." Hancock insisted. "On the house."

Three quarters of a smile. "Thanks Hancock. I owe you one. Laters, ghoul friend."

She affectionately pushed the tip of his tricorn down as she left him, causing him to fix his hat, yet again. He watched her go, the slight sway of her hips, the rip in her jeans on the back of her thigh. As she departed up the dirty stairwell, Hancock was overwhelmed by the vacuum left in her wake. The clink of bottles, murmur or voices, the smoke and the electrical hum all rushing in on him. Magnolia was in the middle of a new song. Some slow jazz tune about a lost lover. When had she started singing again? He hadn't noticed.

"Another drink sir?" Whitechapel queried.

"Yeah." He replied stiffly, turning his attention back to the barkeep. "And keep em coming."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust the raging hard on now straining painfully against his zipper. Friend? Just friends?

John Hancock sighed, fixed his hat and whispered quietly to his beer. "Fuck."


	2. Heart Rending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Outside Croup manor
> 
> Status of relationship: flirting- once-
> 
> Warnings: Possible minor spoilers, cursing and gore

"Get off of me!"

Hancock swiveled his shot gun around with enough time to see a putrid ghoul leap on Macha, knocking her to the ground. Her weapon went flying as the deranged irradiated human lunged at her face, teeth gnashing at her exposed neck. She struggled in the mud, back peddling in an attempt to get away, her feet finding no purchase in the soaked earth. The ghoul forced his rotting teeth closer to her face.

Reaching into his frock, Hancock produced an inhaler of Jet. With a quick jerk of his arm, he brought the drug to his lipless mouth and breathed deep. Time slowed to a crawl. The edges of the world both blurred and sharpened at once, colors running together.

"Hey!" He yelled at her assailant. "Over hereeeeeeeeeeee!" His voice distorted in his ears, dragging out parallel to time. The shot had to be perfect. He had to be perfect. If not, the ghoul was too close to her. If he missed... he didn't want to think about it. So he didn't. He just acted. Grains of sand fell from the hourglass as the barrel of the shot gun lined up with the ghoul's cranium. Tick. He closed one eye, focused on his target. Rain drops blurred in front of his eye, refracting the light. Tock. He coiled his finger around the curve of the trigger; metal cool and comforting. Drew in a breath. Held it. Tick. His finger pressed the trigger achingly slow. Macha screamed in frustration as the ghoul clawed at her. Tock. The round exited the barrel before Hancock, spiraling a graceful waltz of death in the air. Promising an end. Tick. There was a satisfying rainfall of goo as the ghoul's head exploded, showering Macha with bits of brain matter and skull as his slug hit home.

"Yeah!" He boasted as time restored itself. "Well.. they tried. If you can call that trying."

His victory gloating was cut short when he noticed her angrily kicking the body off of her. She stumbled to her feet, ripping her pack off and digging for something.

"Fucking disgusting things." She hissed wiping the bodily fluids off her face with an old oven mitt she had grabbed earlier. "I fucking hate ghouls."

She muttered as she turned her face skyward and let the deluge of rain was away the rest of the remains.

Hancock felt his spine straighten and his grip on his weapon tighten at her words. Of course she hated ghouls. They were monsters. Most people in the wasteland did. Why should she be any different? He just thought.. he didn't know what he had thought. Maybe that they were connecting in some way. There had been times he had thought she was even teasing him. Maybe even flirting. What an IDIOT he was. He was only as good as he was useful. It didn't matter. She was helping the people of the Commonwealth. That's what mattered. She was making a difference in the cesspool of a world and taking a stand. He would stick with her as long as she continued to help, her opinions of him be damned. He felt hollow then, without understand why. And tired. He needed a chem break soon. Something stronger than Jet. Something to stop him from thinking too much.

"Hey," He shouted above the din of the rain. It made an eerie tinny noise as the fat droplets bounced off the roofs of the car shells that littered the area."Lets move on and clear it out."

He motioned to the looming husk of Croup Manor. The old mansion sat at the top of the hill, a corpse of building, burnt out and exposed to the elements. They had only killed the ghouls that rushed them from first floor and ghouls traveled in packs. He doubted that was all of them. "The settlers are waiting."

She acknowledged him with a slight start, as if she had forgotten he was there.

"Um.. Yeah. Sure. Let's go." A shadow flitted across her face and she hesitated as if she wanted to say something. Seeming to think better of it, she retrieved her weapon and shouldered her backpack.

Shit. She had messed up. She shouldn't have said that. Why did she say that? She didn't mean HIM. She meant, the other ghouls. The not cool, laid-back ones with excellent -if not outdated- fashion sense. Macha mentally berated herself, not knowing what to do know. Did she say sorry? Or just ignore it and pretend it hadn't happened? He didn't seem upset. He just stood there, watching her with those impassive dark eyes. Unreadable. She opened her mouth to apologize and then snapped it shut. Pandora's box closing before more horrors could tumble out.

"Um.. Yeah. Sure. Let's go." Was all she could muster. He was right. Time was wasting and the settlers were waiting. At least the manor would offer some shelter from the downpour.

More ghouls awaited them in the manor. They lurked behind locked doors and desiccated furniture. Ghosts roaming their former haunts. Undead tributes to the victims of the war, mocking human life as they stumbled from room to room.

Macha put them down, keeping her mouth shut. Silently and efficiently, they moved room to room, clearing the house. Still, she was surprised when master bedroom door swung open and the glowing one grabbed at her.

"Shit!" She cursed as she shot it point blank in the face. She could feel the radiation emitted from its glowing form. It rolled over her, making her feel sick and hot, like a fever boiling her inside out. A miasma of pestilence and slow blistering death. It fell back, staggered by the force of her weapon's discharge.

She retreated a few steps fleeing its irradiated grasp. "Hancock, take point!"

He could withstand the radiation. She on the other hand, would be literal toast.

"On it!" He flanked the creature, unloading shells into its backside. Together they played a morose game of keep away, unloading enough bullets into the ghoul to enrage and causing it to give chase. Only to have the other open fire on it's exposed flank. Finally, after the expenditure of numerous rounds, the thing lay in a twitching glowing pile eating away at the bedroom floorboards.

A glint of metal from the light of her pip boy caught Macha's eye. "Is that.. a key?"

"Looks like it." Hancock said pushing back the cuff of his coat and reaching inside the glowing one's abdomen to retrieve it. He shook it off, send green glowing bits splattering the dingy walls. He grinned.

"Wanna see where it goes?"

* * *

 

"Looks like we missed dinner." His attempt at levity earned him an unsure eyebrow raise from Macha as she reloaded. He internally sighed as he surveyed the basement of Croup Manor. Ghouls littered the floor, their innards mixing with the stagnant water that filled the small room.

"Guess that's a good thing, seeing as how we were the ones on the menu." She muttered as she finished reloading and started her usual pattern of picking up any piece of junk that wasn't nailed down. He watched her with odd fascination, trying to figure out why she always did this. Typewriter. Desk fan. Coffee cup. None of the miscellaneous knick knacks were safe. All were shoved into the perpetual void that was her backpack.

"Mini nuke over here." He pointed out, trying to be helpful.

"Thanks."

It was the only response he got as the nuke was jammed into the pack. He flinched a bit as she forcefully crammed the mini nuclear device into her near capacity bag, cursing as she stuffed it in. Throwing the straps over her shoulder, she stepped over the fallen form of Theodore Croup and tapped away on his personal terminal.

The minutes ticked by as she raided the computer, rooting out anything of value. Anything useful. Tap tap tap. Her fingers flew across the keys and Hancock found himself wishing the noise would stop. It was too quiet in here. Alone in this water logged room with her. He was just about to break the uncomfortable tension with a bad joke when a soft "Oh" came from her.

She looked at the body of Theodore, her hands folded in her lap. Some emotion was etched behind her eyes, now soft and melancholy, as stood up and put the chair back against the desk. Like it mattered, the chair being in the appropriate position in a room full of the dead.

"They were his family." She said softly, still gazing at Theodore. "After the bombs, they changed and so did he. Except, he retained his mind. He was... he tried... to help them. Tried to teach them and bring back.. some of their.. humanity. It didn't work."

She nodded to the gaping bullet wound in Theodore's head. "I guess, after a few hundred years, he gave up."

Well, shit. What did he say now. His joke? That seemed in poor taste even for him. His mind raced as he tried to find something to talk about or to point out. Maybe she had missed a clip board or a hot plate, or something he could draw her attention to and have her shove it in that damn pack of hers.

"I'm sorry." She said suddenly. Her head snapped up so she could look him directly in the eyes. "About the ghouls. About what I said.. And.. this is gonna sound stupid, but I forgot. I forgot you were a..."

He cleared his throat, now even more unsure what to say or do. She forgot he was a ghoul. Or more so, she forgot to see him AS a ghoul. If that was the case, then what did she see him as? A man? A friend? Maybe.. something else entirely? "It's cool."

It's cool. Did he really just say that in response to what had been an off handed compliment by her? Brilliant John. A fucking gentleman and a scholar, you are sir. Just like the real Hancock.

"I didn't mean you." She continued in a hurry, trying to explain. Desperate to have him understand. "You've... you're.. not like them. I don't hate you. Just the spazy, flailing, bitey ones. Which .. you are not. Obviously."

"Hey now, don't misjudge me yet." He quipped before his brain had enough sense to shut his mouth down. "You haven't seen me dance. It's not far off. Just a little less bitey."

A half smile graced her lips, sneaking to her eyes and he could tell she was having a hard time deciding if it was appropriate to laugh. She lost the battle with herself and a small squeak of laughter found it's way through her tight pressed lips. He was smiling now too. Smiling at her smiling. In the ankle deep water, surrounded by floating corpses.

As if she sudden remembered their whereabouts to, she cleared her throat and her half smile faded.

"Does it.. bother you?" She questioned, surveying the carnage. The death of what was technically his kind. "Killing the ghouls? Because, I can get someone else to join me on these kind of missions if you would prefer. Maybe Piper.. or Dogmeat."

In an odd way he was touched. Touched that she cared enough to consider his feelings to ask. Lots of people in the Commonwealth didn't consider anything but their own needs. It was.. refreshing. "Nah. We hurt people that need hurting. Doesn't matter what or who they are. Just something we gotta do.

In truth, he had never even thought of it. Never compared himself to the ghouls that peppered the land. Even when he had taken the drug, knew what it would do, he never once compared himself to the poor slobs running around the wasteland, foaming at the mouth.

"Cool." She said nodding absently.

"Cool."

They stood there a bit longer, each painfully aware of the awkward silence that stretched out before them before they decided to speak simultaneously.

"Well, I'm going to see to the perimeter-"

"I'd better start fixing these holes before-"

Each fell into awkward chuckle and it was Macha that finally ended things by detouring around him through the basement door: her leaving with a heavy pack, he with a lighter heart.

* * *

 

It hadn't stopped raining for two days while they set up the settlement. They slept in shifts, rotating guard duty, while the other scrapped metal, wood and anything that would surrender useful parts. On the eve of the second night, he found her ruthlessly attacking a typewriter with a screwdriver, attempting to pull off the back panel.

"Still not giving up the goods, eh?" John peered over her shoulder, examining the many scratches and dents her assault had created.

She sighed in exasperation, wiping a grease smeared hand across her brow. "Not yet." She changed the pitch over her voice, sounding much like the melodramatic evil doers on that Silver Shroud broadcast Kent ran in Goodneighbor. "But we haff ways of making him talk!"

Hancock chuckled at her impression. Things between them for that last few days had settled into a nice, uncomplicated rhythm while preparing for the new settlers to arrive. Work until exhausted, toss a can of Pork n' beans into the cooking station till tepid, and get a few hours sleep until it was time to do it again. Defenses had gone up, power was running, clean water available from the pump. All and all, not bad for two days work, but it left no room for awkwardness. No time or energy to dwell on such things.

"Grrrrrraaaaaaaaaahhh!" She growled in frustration as the screwdriver tip broke off. She pushed the broken screwdriver away from her, grumbling. "I just need a few more gears to build a turret. This shouldn't be this hard. That's it!"

She picked up the typewriter and shook it, speaking to the inanimate object as if it understood her wrath. "If you don't fucking cooperate, I swear I'm going to toss you out back with a frag grenade attached to you."

"Which would destroy the part you need and any purpose of doing that." Hancock pointed out.

"It would make me feel better." She grumbled, digging through her tool box. "That's purpose enough."

"You seem a bit on edge. Try this." He handed her a bottle off buffout. "Take a break. Relax. It's not going anywhere."

She frowned at the bottle. "Can't you become addicted to this stuff?"

"Yeah, sure. But a bit won't hurt. It's a steroid. It will increase your reflexes and strength-"

"I know what it is." She cut him off as she examined the container. She mulled something over. "I was a lawyer before the war. I used to prosecute people who would make this on the streets. Criminals. They would make it and sell it to kids. It would cause cardiac arrest most times. Their hearts just couldn't take it and would give out."

She grew silent for a bit, looking off into the distance. Not seeing him; not seeing anything really. Lost to both the past and the present; belonging to neither. "Fuck lotta good it did. Throwing them in jail. They died when the bombs came. And the kids I thought I saved died too. And Nate and... Death doesn't care if you are good or bad. It just.. is."

Macha shook herself out of the daze and stood from the table, placing the bottle of Buffout on the table. She was running, he knew. Like he had run so many times. Running from the past, running from herself.

"There's a church not far from here. At the end of the peninsula. They probably have a typewriter or two for bookkeeping. I'm going try there first, see what I can find."

Macha threw a last longing look at the buffout on the dining room table. Tempting her to return and surrender to the bliss it could offer. The feeling of power and control in a world where she had none. The fantasy of saving Nate and her son. She had relieved the memory so many times in so many ways. Tweaking the memory to suit her needs. One time, she broke through the glass of her cryo chamber and knocked the scarred man out. Another, she and Nate never went to that damned Vault. Instead they died together, huddled near Shaun's crib. A good, clean death. One they chose on their own terms. Not shot while helpless by some murdering scum.

She shuddered as a cold rain drop fell onto her neck from the leaky roof. Before the War, she had never really imbibed except a few times in college. Never thought about doing any chems. Hardly even cursed. It wasn't proper. Wasn't ladylike or professional or fitting a new mom. But then again, she had never fired a weapon either. Never killed a man. Never used the rain to wash the rotting insides of another off her face. So many nevers and never agains.

But now, she wasn't that person anymore. Not exactly. That Macha had died in the Vault two hundred years ago. And this Macha was scared and tired and had killed; would kill again. She was stuck somewhere between the two. Limbo. She couldn't do chems. Drinking was one thing that helped dull the pain and blur the memories, but chems? That was for the weak. And she couldn't be weak. Couldn't allow herself to fall prey to weakness. She HAD to find Shaun. He was all she had left. All that was left of Pre-War Macha.

"Thanks, but I don't need it." She replied handing him the bottle. He pocketed with a shrug, never judging, always accepting in that way that only he could be.

"Coming?" She asked Hancock.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you need."

Macha turned her back to the chems and walked into the rain.

* * *

 

"Up ahead."

Hancock understood her gesture more than her words with the rain pouring off his hat and threatening to enter his ear canals. This was one of those times he missed ear lobes. At least they offered some protection from the rivulets of rain trying to sneak their way into all his nooks and crannies.

He motioned for her to continue ahead as he adjusted his hat; turning it sideways so the rain ran off the turned up part of the brim instead of into his ears. Shit. Except now his nose was exposed and the rain was invading that too. God dammit, he hated the rain. The church wasn't far, its gaping entrance both full of promise and danger in the downpour. He was trying to adjust his hat when the ground in front of Macha exploded.

Bits of dirt and rocks became shrapnel, hurtling through the rain as the Mirelurk Queen rose from the depths. Massive, nearly as tall as the church she nested by, the Queen roared with ear splitting defiance at those that invaded her territory.

Macha screamed something intelligible at him, opening fire on the great beast. The queen lurched back and sent a gob of spittle flying towards Macha's figure. He heard her scream as the acid tore through Macha's protective clothing and began to eat away at her flesh.

"Hold on, Macha! I'm coming"

The shots from her laser pistol came in rapid session, flaring bright red in the night. He reached for his lighter as he watched the shots bounce harmlessly off of the queen's exoskeleton. Shielding the lighter from the rain, he lit a Molotov cocktail and hurtled it with deadly precision at the queen. She screeched in rage as the earth before her erupted in flames, her many legs flailing as she reeled backwards.

Macha was still yelling. Shouting something in the rain while back peddling, shooting the now advancing queen and lobbing all her grenades at it.

"IniKe!"

"What?!" John shouted as he approached the queen, unloading his shotgun into her sides. The grenades had made his hearing worse, dulled now buy the rain and the explosions. He barley dodged as one tremendous claw swiped down, nearly knocking his head from his shoulders.

"Mnnkeeee! Fft NNN!" She was pointing to something on the ground, closer to him than to her.

He still didn't understand her frantic gesturing. Hancock was so intent on trying to decipher her movements, he didn't see the Queen's tail until he was sailing through the air. He landed with a thud onto the hood of a rusted out car.

With a groan, he sat up in just enough time to see the Mirelurk extend its claw and grab Macha by the waist. Macha's dire warnings were cut short when the queen slammed her into the ground. Hancock watched his companion go limp as the queen tossed her body into the tide pool she rose from. He screamed as she landed face first in the water, unresponsive. But then he saw it, what Macha had been trying to tell him. To the right of the queen, covered in mud and dirt but peeking out of the top of her pack. Mini nuke. The one she had got from the basement. It all clicked into place. Fft NNNN! Fat man. The one he had been lugging around for her since they found it in an abandoned army truck.

The queen turned on him as he popped the top off his last bottle of buffout and downed the pills in one gulp. He was moving before the glob of acidic spit came into view, dodging as it disintegrated into the car behind him. He ran, red coat tails flying in the rain and wind. Red death coming for the queen. He was mother fucking John Hancock and this bitch was going down.

He tumbled past another claw and slid on his knees to the pack, fat man already out and awaiting ammo. He battered the mini nuke into the chamber as the queen reared above him, chitinous claws gleaming in the rain to crush, maim, and maw. At this close range, he had a clear shot at her face and underbelly. He was also likely to blow himself up but beggars cant be choosers.

Hancock depressed the trigger and let the mini nuke fly. There was a terrible moment of silence where he thought the white light he saw was his body dying, but then he realized that was bullshit. If heaven existed, he certainly wasn't going there. Instead, the white light turned green and showered him with black crisp skin and entrails. Yup. Definitely not heaven.

He lay there panting for a moment, trying to distinguish his surrounding from the spots in his eyes when he recalled Macha. Macha unconscious or possibly dead. Macha face down in the water. The irradiated water.

"No, no, no , no." He chanted over and over again as he crawled to her prone form. Grabbing her by the shirt, he used his chemically enhanced strength to pull her from the water and roll her over. Her lips were pale blue, her face ashen, auburn hair plastered to her face.

"Macha!" He cried hoarsely, shaking her. After no response, he put his water saturated ear to her nose, her mouth, her chest. She wasn't breathing. She wasn't anything.

Cursing, Hancock tore away the dented chest plate, claw marks evident along the breast. Exposing her body he started CPR, compressing her chest and pressing his lipless mouth to hers in a futile attempt to get her to start breathing, the rain choking him. Nothing. No response. Again. Do it again. And again.

"Macha! Come on! Breathe dammit!" He was pleading now, much like she was just minutes ago with the typewriter. When she was alive, just a short time ago. Pleading with an inanimate object to work. Funny, kind, brilliant, and tragic Macha. Beautiful, daring, accepting Macha. Desperate for a solution that a grenade wouldn't solve.

Grenade! Like he had eaten an entire stash of Mentats, the idea was there. A crazy hopeless idea. His kind of idea. He couldn't use a grenade, but he had something with just as much impact. John fished out a syringe of Psycho and held it over her chest. Had to be right. Just right.

Praying to no god in particular, John drove the long needle directly into Macha's heart and depressed the plunger, flooding her heart with the powerful stimulant.

"Come on.. workkkk. This has to work." Seconds became minutes, hours, days; dragging by like the atmosphere had suddenly turned to Jet and even the world had stopped turning.

The she was gasping.. gagging, clawing at her chest. And it was John's heart that exploded in time with hers, lighting up as if he had been the one to take the hit of psycho straight to his heart. And he watched her, guarded her; protected her at her weakest, all the while feeling like his own heart may stop any moment. Like she would slip away again if he moved wrong or breathed too deep. Or worse, this was just a Jet dream and she really was dead and he would awake and her half smile would be gone forever.

John gave her some room and helped her on her side as she vomited up sea water. She lay there for a while, too dazed to understand what had happened as the rain poured down indifferently. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her eyes focused on him.

"Han- c-cock?" She questioned weakly.

"Yeah?" He asked scooting close to her. He had removed his coat and draped it over her body while she lay on her side puking up irritated ocean water. It had been a futile gesture, neither keeping her warm nor shielding her from the rain at this point, but he felt better for doing it. At least it was something he could do, rather than just sit here and watch her evacuate her lungs.

"Is it d-dead?" She choked out, lips still blue and now shaking from the cold.

"Yeah. It's dead."

"Oh. G-good." She paused, looking confused. "I... I don't remember how we k-killed it."

"It's not important now, Macha. Let's just get you inside and out of the rain."

He went to help her up, but she held out a hand, stopping him.

"Hancock. Why... w-why is there a s-six inch needle sticking out of my c-chest?"

* * *

 

Macha stared at the flames not really seeing the fire. They were back at Croup Manor now, safe. Well, as safe as one could be in this world. For now. Until the next threat arose and the next monster reared it's ugly head and tried to kill her for no other reason than she existed. But she didn't want to... could not think about that now.

She tapped out a little tune on her ceramic coffee mug as she stared into the fire. Yankee doodle. It seemed appropriate since she was helping the Minutemen. Because that is what good neighbors did. They helped. But her mug didn't contain the tea or coffee that it would have in the past. Instead, she was finishing up a bottle of rum that had been stashed in a decrepit bureau. Aged to perfection. Two hundred years. Just like her. And she wasn't sure if she was a good neighbor anymore. She wasn't sure about anything. She wasn't even sure if this was rum. It didn't taste like rum. It didn't taste like anything, but then nothing much did anymore. She was numb, too numb from the cold, hunger, loss and depression. She nodded when Preston asked her for help, smiled when she was supposed to. Helped because she didn't know what else to do but she knew she had to keep moving. She couldn't 'relax' as Hancock suggested, because if she did.. she might never... never...

She wrapped the ratty blanket closer around her shoulders and suppressed a shudder. Her drenched clothes were laid out on the bathtub, drying as much as was possible with the continuous leaks from the ceiling. Her armor had saved her life, the queen's claws crushing it instead of her spine and intestines. Her stomach was monochrome masterpiece of purple bruises. Several stimpacks and rad aways later, and she could at least breathe without her broken ribs hurting as much. Hancock had practically carried her back.

He had told her what had happen. She had died. She had died and he brought her back. Twice now, he had saved her. This drugged up gangster who though he could change the world. Once, she had thought he was stupid. Like her fantasy about breaking the glass of the cryo chamber and saving Nate and Shaun. Because one person couldn't possibly make a difference. Because it didn't matter what you did. There was always someone stronger, faster, better, that wanted what you had and would take it from you simply because they could. But, he had made a difference today. Had saved her. Twice. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to thank him for. Not because he was a ghoul or because she was a bitch, but because where she had been was warm and safe and carefree and he had ripped her from that back to this world. This world where everything was the opposite. It was childish, but a part of her hated him a little for it. But another part was grateful. So damn grateful at another chance of life, even if it was hard and hurt. She couldn't go. She had to find Shaun and he had given her that chance.

"Hey." His soft voice snapped her from her thoughts as he knelt besides her. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Was what she said, when she felt anything but fine. How could she tell him any part of what she felt? This Rubik cube of emotions all jumbled inside her. He wouldn't understand. Hell, she barely understood herself.

He nodded as if he had heard her thoughts and understood them anyways. Like he knew her. She felt an irrational flash of anger at this, but buried it in her mug of not-rum.

"I'm gonna go stand watch. Just get some rest. Holler if you need anything."

She hesitated a moment, debating on whether or not to ask why he saved her. She didn't belong here. He didn't owe her anything. She was a human, he was a ghoul. They had nothing in common save survival. And even then, she was proving more of a liability than asset. So why? She closed her mind to the thought and simply stated, "Thanks. For everything."

He grinned. That strange lipless grin that made him look more human than ghoul. Almost.. handsome in some odd way. Like he was sharing a secret, and you were the only person in the whole damn universe who he told. Like you were some kind of special.

"Of course. Now get some rest. You don't have to worry about a thing with me watching over you."

But Macha didn't want him to go. She didn't want to sleep. The dreams came when she slept, invading her mind and making her relive those terrible moments over and over again. Nate frozen. Pounding on the glass. Blood splattering. His body going limp. Shaun crying and crying and the helplessness and anger and despair that had frozen her in place as sure as the cryogenic chamber had. And her heart, her heart breaking; scattering like star dust in the void.

"Hancock?" She whispered softly. He paused at the door and turned to her. "John."

"Yeah."

"Do you have...something. F-for the pain?"

His face softened for a moment and reached into his coat and handed her a bottle. Daytripper, the label proclaimed in bright cheery letters.

"Just... go easy the first time." he warned her, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Of course. It's...it's just for the pain." Her hands were shaking as she unscrewed the lid and dropped two white oblong pills into her palm.

He watched her as she swallowed the pills, as the colors of the fire become more vivid and danced before her eyes. His black gaze never faltered as the shadows that had seemed so terrifying morphed into humorous characters that laughed and played just for her entertainment. He was there to catch the cup as it fell from her numb fingers. There to drape the blanket over her naked flesh as she giggled at something only she could see. There to wipe a tear from her cheek as she fell into a deep dreamless sleep. John Hancock was there to watch Macha die twice in one day. Once at the hands of the Mirelurk queen, and once at her own hands, killing the old Pre-war Macha so new Macha- wasteland Macha- could survive.


	3. Beautiful Things

"Where did you learn all that smooth talking from?" Hancock inquired as they slowly descended towards the ground.

He gazed back up at the giant Mr. Handy shaped tower that graced the middle of the General Atomics Galleria. She had been, in a word, incredible. Talking the Director in a circle to the point it got confused and reset the computer systems for her. Hancock had thought for certain they would not escape without a bullet hole or two, but with her quick wit and quicker tongue, she had weaseled her way out of a firefight. Macha gave him her trademark half grin.

"I told you. I was a lawyer. It was my job to smooth talk people." She leaned away from the railing, anxious to get back to the ground. She wasn't too fond of heights. Well, it was more the falling she wasn't too fond of. It was a long way down and she wasn't certain her grand reopening of the Galleria was a success. Not yet. She had her weapon at the ready as the crane lowered them towards the ground full of patrolling Mr. Handys. The last thing she needed was to fall out of the basket and break a limb surrounded by a bunch of hostile robots with flame throwers.

"They paid you to talk to people?" Hancock couldn't seem to wrap his head around the concept.

"Well…. More like they paid me to argue for the state or the people in criminal prosecutions. I represented their interests in the law. " Hancock shook his head. "The past was.. odd. Were you any good?"

She beamed at him. "Ever argue with a woman?"

He barked out a laugh. "Only if I was really really high. Besides, don't need to argue. Talking is the last thing we usually end up doing, if you catch my drift."

Macha rolled her eyes as he pointed to the large tricorn that adorned his bald head. "Makes all the ladies swoon."

"The hat?" Macha raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really now?" Hancock crossed his arms over his chest and struck a pose. With a cocky grin, he tipped the hat in her general direction. "Yeah, like it? I think it gives me a sexy, king of the zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies. Well, most ladies, most of the time." Most ladies being not Macha. She didn't seem impressed. Which annoyed him, both that he craved her approval and that she was unaffected.

"Uh huh. MOST ladies, MOST of the time?" She mocked him as the basket touched down and they stepped free. "Sounds like someone is losing their edge."

He was formulating a smart ass come back when she grabbed his hand and started dragging him towards the nearest shop.

"Maybe you just need a new hat?" Macha grinned back at him as she led him towards the outlet clothing store. The sign to Fallon's was hanging off the building, the F dangling upside down and smacking against the rest of the sign with a metallic ping.

"Let's see what the grand reopening is like." She slowed as they approached the entrance, dropping his hand in favor of cradling her gun. When they had been in here earlier, the neurotic robot that greeted them at the door had warned them about not touching anything. It had claimed that years of labor had gone into perfecting the displays. Something about this caveat had rung warning bells to both of them and they wisely skirted around the department store without entering. This time, an entirely different greeting was awaiting them.

"Well hellooooo Sir and Madam!" The Robot chirped excitedly. "Welcome to Fallon's Outlet Store, where your business suit is our business! I am Reg and will be your sales associate today. How can I be of service?"

Macha smirked as she mimicked a posh accent. "Good day, Reg. We wouldlove to see your selection of hats."

"Marvelous! Right this way!"

A parade of hats crowned Hancock's head, each with commentary about the effects they had on his visage. Newsboy, fedora, trilby and formal top hat and more. Macha smiled and laughed with Hancock for a moment forgetting all she had lost.

She was on her way back to him with a bowler hat, when she saw it. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, but still sparkled. Bowler hat temporarily forgotten, she picked up the red sequin dress and held it up to the light. It was beautiful, low cut but still classy. The sequins caught the light, sending shimmers of red gold around the room. Macha's heart skipped a beat. In a world full of ugly death and terrible creatures, it was the most beautiful thing she had seen in a long long time.

“Whatcha got there?” Hancock peeked around the shelf, startling her.

Macha jumped a bit, bringing a smile to his lips as she protectively clutched the dress to her chest. “Nothing. Just a dress.”

“Just a dress?”

“Yeah.” She started to put it back on the shelf, folding it up. There was no point in dreaming. Sure it was gorgeous, but it was also impractical and drew too much attention.

“Aren't you going to try it on?”

She huffed, and shook her head no. “Why? There's no point.”

“Sure there is. You like it.”

“Really, Hancock. It's worthless. A waste of caps. It offers no protection from rads or-”

Hancock placed the dress into her hands. “Just try it. I'd like to see how it looks on you.”

Macha's face bloomed red and she snatched the dress from his hands, heading to the dressing room. “Ok. Fine. I can tell you aren't going to drop it. Just stay over there.”

Hancock chuckled as she entered the small changing station, only her feet visible.. “Awww. Come on, no need to be shy. I've already seen you naked once, remember."

“That was different. I was hurt and you were tending my wounds.” There was a pause as she stood on her toes and peeked her head over the stall door. “You DID just tend to my wounds.. right?”

She was giving him THAT look. The one that said you better have just been doing that or you were in deep shit.

He removed his hat in mock contrition. “You impune my honor. I'm wounded deeply.”

He could have sworn she mumbled something about she would wound him if he came anywhere near the changing station and ducked back below the stall door. Hancock laughed quietly to himself. He had been the perfect gentleman. But.. he was still a man. Of course he had looked. Not that she had given him a chance to see much. She had clung to that ratty blanket as if it was her new set of armor, insisting she did most of the patching up herself. Even when she had passed out from the Daytripper, he had been on his best behavior. Not that he WANTED to see, with her disgustingly smooth skin and cute nose .. and soft luxurious hair.

“Well.” She forced out. “Taa Dahh.”

Hancock sucked in a sharp breath as she stood before him. The plunging neckline showed just the right amount of cleavage, the slinky fabric hugging her curves in all the right places. The red brought out the highlights in her hair, the pink of her lips and softened the steel in her eyes. She looked, in a word:

“Stunning.” Hancock finally exhaled.

She turned red again, the flush only emphasizing the fullness of her breasts and length of her neck as it traveled downwards.

“Uhhh.. here. See for yourself.” He pointed towards the sliver of a full length mirror that had survived the nuclear blasts and hung by a thread on the wall. Macha stopped short at her reflection in the mirror. The person before looked lovely yes, but not her. Not who she once was but a hollowed out version of her former self. She was skinnier, muscle replacing the baby fat that had clung around her mid section. Her mouth that had hosted so many smiles now set a hard line, sharp and not as welcoming. Her steel gray eyes were hard and piercing. She looked fierce.. dangerous. Like a predator in human clothing. She wasn't sure what scared her more, the fact she had changed so mush, or the fact part of her liked it. That she was proud, and strong. Against all odds, was surviving and beginning to adapt.

“Will you zip me up?” She peered over her shoulder at him. “I couldn't reach.”

Hancock cleared his throat tried to say something that came out a very unmanly squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah. Sure.”

Composing himself, his chapped fingers grasped the silver zipper and began the slow climb up the barely visible arch of her back, past her ribs, ascending her spine. He unconsciously paused when he noticed a small mole on her shoulder, his eyes drawn to the mark for reasons he couldn't fathom. It was torture and bliss: a the crash after a powerful high as the zipper reached the top and his hands fell away. “There.” He stated as he stepped out of her personal space.

“You look ready for a gala.”

She cocked her head, examining him through the reflection in the mirror. “I'm surprised you know what that is.”

“I thought we discussed my legendary dancing skills.”

She cracked a smile. “No, I mean. That came out wrong. I mean, it seems this world no longer has a place for dancing. I thought it would have.. died out. Like art, poetry, even music. In the fight for survival, it all seems so.. frivolous. Why devote energy on such things when there are more important things to worry over. Like food, shelter, ammo...I...” She trailed off, her mind retreating to the past.

Once she would have worn a dress out like this to dinner and dancing with Nate. Once she would have been on his arm and he would have twirled her around and kissed her shoulder like he always did. Once she would have danced and dreamed about what tomorrow held, instead of wonder how she was just going to survive the night. She shook her head in anger and self loathing, struggling to reach the zipper. “This serves no purpose. I.. I have to stop living in the past. The days of gowns and music and dancing are over. I.. just need ..”

“Hey.” Rough hands on her shoulders quelled her grasping hands. Hancock turned her to face him, smiling that secretive smile of his. “I don't ever want to live in a world without dancing. And personally, I think this world could use a little more beauty and maybe a bit less practically. These things, art, music, dancing.. they are what makes us human. That's what we are fighting for. To make this shit hole a better place, even if we both have to wear dresses to achieve it.”

She laughed at that last comment, looking down so he wouldn't catch the tear beading under one eye. She rewarded his humor with a half grin, tinged with sadness.

“I don’t have anywhere to wear it.”

“Get the dress, Macha. You can wear the next time we take down a raider camp.”

“If you are planning on me dazzling them and sweet talking them into not murdering us, you have seriously over estimated my negotiation skills."

“Sister, in that dress, I think they’ll be too distracted to think about killing you. Would give me enough time to get some good headshots in.”

She smacked him playfully in the chest, his hands still resting on her shoulders. She peered up at him. Not quite as off put by his proximity as she thought she would be. When she had first started to travel with him, she had been a bit afraid. After all, he had shanked a guy right in front of her within five minutes of entering Goodneighbor. She recalled thinking- this guy- this guy will kill me without hesitation and then go back to drinking his beer like it was nothing. And now, they were traveling together.. trying on clothes like best friends. And now he was staring at her.. probably because she was staring at him. Oh god. How long had she been staring at him? And why were they just standing here, staring at each other? She marveled at his mouth, watching his tongue move as he said her name.

“Macha-”

“Oh my. Sir, may I say your wife looks marveloussssssss in that gown. She will surely be the belle of the ball. Perhaps I can interest you in a matching tuxedo?”

The warmth of his hands leaving her shoulders caused a brief pang on unexpected regret as they both guilty jumped apart at the robot's intrusion. She looked at John and it took her a few moments to register what Reg had said.

“Oh we aren't...” She chuckled nervously and looked to Hancock, almost for guidance.

“She's not my...” Hancock began, but trailed off just as lost for words as she was.

“I'm sorry ma'am, my speech modulators seem to be malfunctioning. I'm afraid I don’t understand.”

“I mean we are together.. but not.. you know..” John and Macha glanced at each other and busted out laughing at the absurdity.

They were trying to explain their relationship to a fucking robot.

Which just confused poor Reg even more. “Madam?” The Mr. Handy unit asked in dismay.

John watched a devious smile spread across Macha's face and he knew the second she opened her mouth, he was going to be in trouble.

“You know what, I think my darling husband does need a new tuxedo.” She took his arm in hers and leaned a doting head on his shoulder, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Wha-? Hey now.” Hancock sputtered.

“Oh come now, darling. You said it yourself. The world needs more beauty. I insist he tries on your absolute best tux.” She addressed Reg.

“Oh, I have just the one in mind, it would looking dashing with his eye color.” Reg puttered off in delight, pleased to serve his first clients in ages.

“Hear that darling? Dashing.”

“Mmmmm..” Hancock grumbled. “You realize not much can dress up this ugly mug.”

She frowned at him. “You are not getting out of this. If I'm getting the dress, you at least have to try on the tux. That's the deal."

He sighed. Well, it would make her happy. And she did look wonderful and he wouldn't mind seeing her in the dress more often. Or outta the dress, his mind supplied suddenly. Where did that come from? He had just told himself he didn't want to see her naked. Hancock rubbed his temple. Must be the chems. Maybe he needed to cut back.

“Here we are sir.” Reg hovered back to them, holding forth a dark gray tux. “You are a classic winter, and this hue will brighten up your complexion and make your eyes singggggggggggg.”

He doubted anything would help his complexion in this lifetime. He begrudgingly took the suit from Reg, eyes full of dark promises of ways he would make Macha pay for this later.

“Just make sure to stay here.” He pointed to the floor, mocking her for what she had told him earlier. “No peeking, no matter how tempting.”

“You're stalling.” She flat-lined. She took his hat and shooed him towards the changing room.

“I'm going. I'm going.” He replied as he vanished behind the door.

Macha sat down on the molding sofa, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the poof of stale air that it exuded in response her weight. She crossed her legs and tapped her foot on the floor in slight impatience.

“Shit. How did they?.... what the fuck is this shit?” The sounds of struggling came from the stall. Thump. Thud. The scratch of fabric against wood.

“You OK?” Macha asked, biting back laughter. “Yes” he sounded annoyed. “You sure you don’t want me to help you?” Macha was pushing her luck, but she just couldn’t help it. He got this little wrinkle above his brow when he was riled. It was kinda.. cute.

“Yes. I'm fine.. I just.. Shit!” Macha shot to her feet as the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the store. “John!” She called out in alarm, her own weapon coming up.

“I'M. FINE. JUST DROPPED MY GUN TRYING TO GET IN THESE GODDAMN PANTS.” The door to the dressing stall swung open forcefully and out came an irritated Hancock looking stiff and pulling at his collar. “Fucking shit. How did you guys get anything done in this? I feel like a super mutant has got me by the throat. Can't fucking breathe.”

“It's fashion, John. It's not supposed to be comfortable. Just look good.”

He muttered more to himself than Macha. “You sure it was the war that killed most people and not their clothing?”

The half grin made a reappearance. “I think you look very handsome.” Hancock blinks startled. “You do?”

“Yes. Just needs something.” She gingerly put his hat back on his head, adjusting it accordingly. “There. Perfect. Now all the ladies wont be able to resist you.”

“ALL the ladies?” John asked with an impish smile.

Reg saved Hancock from another smack in the chest by choosing that moment to re-emerge and gush over them. “Ah young love! What a handsome couple you make. Shall I wrap these items up for you?”

“Yeah, but give us just a minute, will yeah. I'm thinking it needs a test drive.” Hancock mysteriously retorted.

“Very well sir. Let me know when you are ready.” With that, the bustling robot went back to folding and refolding garments on a table over and over again.

Macha watched with amusement as Hancock strolled across the store and fiddled with the radio. After some static and electrical hissing, he tuned it to the classic station that was always available. The measured haunting melody of Chopin's Nocturne Op.9 , No. 2 caressed Macha's bare shoulder's, giving her goosebumps. Sporting his secretive grin, Hancock tipped his hat and bowed low to Macha “May I have this dance?”

Macha giggled and gave her best curtsy. “But of course darling.”

They gradually came together: Johns hand on her lip, leading while her hand rested lightly on his arm and in his hand. They moved in time to the nocturne, acutely aware of only the music and each other as they waltzed across the broken ruined floor. Macha smiled up at him.

She had to say it. She couldn't resist. She jested, “Just no biting.” John feigned indignation.

“What kinda ghoul do you take me for?” He said as he twirled her around, his fingers grazing her waist as she turned. “Never on the first date.”

He dipped her low, his eyes following the curve of her neck as Macha laughed in delight. And in a world where to survive you had to dodge bullets and death every step, together, they danced.


	4. Burying The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Sanctuary Hills and Vault 111
> 
> Relationship: Flirting/friendship
> 
> Spoilers: intro of game, and Kellogg quest
> 
> Listened to Ellie Goulding -Under Control while writing this.
> 
> Warning: The feels

Today was the day. She was going to do it. She didn't have a choice anymore. She had waited too long, like a coward. Now it was approaching that critical timeframe where she had to decide if too much time has passed and she should walk away, or to just buckle down and get it taken care of. But she couldn't walk away. She couldn't leave him like that anymore. He had given her so much and had deserved much more than he got.

Macha stared up at the hill that contained Vault 111 from a hole in the wall of her small shack and felt her heart sink. It seemed so quaint and innocent with the sunlight just cresting over the hill. Just like the billboards advertised. A safe haven for wholesome families in the event of the inevitable. Everything about it was mired in deception. She hated it in that cold sterile place with its bright lights and steel walls. Every experience within those walls was tinged with horror and loss, but they still called to her.

She had gone back once when she needed solace and someone to talk to who wouldn't judge her for being scared, weak, and lonely. A pathetic sight to behold, she played the holotape Codsworth had given her and wept before the cryo chamber that had become Nate's tomb. Amongst the sounds of her infant child burbling and his tender voice, she told him how much she missed him and promised she would find Shaun. It was all she had to cling to in those desperate moments when the reality of the world came crashing down on her and she couldn't hide behind a fake smile or benevolent acts anymore. She told herself that it had been months and it shouldn't hurt so much still, but her grief stalked her like a radscorpion. Popping up when she least expected it and poisoning any happiness she might find. She was sinking into the dark blackness of despair and could find nothing to pull her free.

It was something she could not explain to the others and something she doubted they understood. How could you explain that a bad day to her had once consisted of the hot water heater being on the fritz and going from tepid to nuclear in a span of seconds, causing her and Nate to get scalded in the shower? How could you tell that to a wastelander, whose worst day involved all of their family getting murdered by raiders... or eaten by super mutants... or starving to death because the crop had failed? She found no way to convey how exhausting it was being on the alert all the time. Retraining her brain that at any second, something could appear and end her. That when you saw a stranger on the road ahead of you, you raised your weapon instead of a hand in greeting and hoped that they didn't want to die any more than you did. That the clock of her life, slowly winding down, was now unearthed and exposed when it had once been hidden by a career, a family... home. And it weighed on her, pressing her down as the bodies piled up around her, and a river of blood formed at her feet.

Preston, the settlers, all of her companions had been born into this harsh world and that was their norm. Her birth into the wasteland was one of fire, panic, and loss and pain. When the womb of Vault 111 had expelled her, everything she knew was gone and she was as a child once again. Stumbling into the bright sun to find all everything had changed but her. No real time to adapt or get used to it, she just kept moving forward. Surviving because she had too. Only her drive to find Shaun kept her going; a goal to work towards. A life preserver to cling to and barely keep her head above water. If she could get her baby back, then maybe just maybe something in this fucked up world would be right again.

Dogmeat gave her a curious whimper as she passed his doghouse resting just outside the front door. She graced him with a sad smile, grateful for his simple acknowledgment and ruffled the scruff on the back of his neck, wishing that Nate could have met the loyal canine.

"He would have loved you." She whispered as she scratched his head. He whined in response, not understanding what she said, but picking up the underlying sorrow that was layered in her speech. She briefly contemplated bringing him along, but no… this was something… something she had to do alone. It was her responsibility.

"Be a good boy and keep an eye on the town, ok?"

Dogmeat cocked his head and arched an ear, responding with a crisp bark and tail wag. It never ceased to amaze her just how much he understood her commands. _Sometimes_ , she thought, _that dog is too damn smart for his own good._

Macha quietly closed the door to her place. Preston and the rest of the settlers had helped her throw the two story cottage together from all the scrap they could find around Sanctuary. If you could call it a cottage. She was being generous. It was really a tiny ramshackle shanty hastily thrown together for shelter. She supposed that she could have stayed in her old house, but there were just too many memories ingrained in those shattered walls. It was a burnt out shell, broken and worn and seemed the perfect physical representation of her life and current state of mind. Somehow still standing, but missing pieces; missing the things that once made it home. That's all any of these building were to her: shelter, something necessary and purely utilitarian.

Dogmeat barked again and she shushed him. She didn't want to wake Hancock, who had been camping out the spare bedroom down the hall. Or, more accurately, often found passed out on her couch downstairs in a drug induced stupor, his hat over his eyes, arms folded across his chest, snoring up a storm. He tended to make a majority of the settlers nervous -twirling that knife of his the way he did when he got bored. Her place on the outskirts of town was a better option than the communal lodge. Less chances of a random shanking occurring if someone pissed him off.

Though, she pondered, he hadn't been there this morning. Maybe he went for a midnight stroll and passed out in the field. Who knew with him? He seemed restless in town, always eager to get back out there and -how did he put it?- sharpen the old killing skills?

She began to walk away and hesitated for a moment. After a brief rundown in her head of all the possible disasters that could occur, she went back to Dogmeat and amended her prior command. "On second thought, boy, keep an eye on Hancock. It's... safer that way. For everyone."

* * *

The light from Hancock's cigarette cast a dim glow over his rough face. It highlighted every crater and scar over his visage, causing him to look sinister. He drew a long drag off his smoke and casually puffed an ample circle into the atmosphere. The smoke ring hovered in the air a moment before dissipating in the morning light.

"Uhhhh." He groaned, adjusting his hat to better shade his eyes from the encroaching sunrise. "Someone needs to turn that thing down. Doesn't it realize some of us are hung over?"

No one answered, of course. The local settlers of Sanctuary Hills were just beginning to stir and start their day hunched over in the dirt. Hancock flicked the ash off the tip of his cigarette and glanced around from the backyard of one of the destroyed houses. The settlement was coming along nicely. The crops were doing well. Bluish maize reaching for the sky and the stems of the mutfruit trees pregnant with the lumpy purple seed pods. Turrets hummed in cadence: a hive of agitated insects waiting to sting unwary intruders. Just a few days ago, a new water purifier went up, providing fresh water for the people and live stock with enough left over to give everyone a much needed shower. In the wasteland, it was the closest thing to paradise he had seen, and he was bored out of his damn mind.

_No wonder I found that stash of chems in one of the abandoned houses,_ he mused taking another drag and chasing it with a shot of bourbon. _Must have had a local supplier for the town to keep all the housewives smiling and the husbands from dying of monotony._ Not that he begrudged the people a peaceful life. Hell, it was what he was fighting for. It just wasn't for him. All this up by day break, fingers caked in mud, back soaked in sweat as your body broke down from the wear and tear of grueling physical labor. If he was going to get fucked up he could think of much more enjoyable pursuits than farming. No, his legacy was written in blood and he had earned every drop he could squeeze from this miserable life.

What he was doing now, now THAT was living. Scouring the countryside, taking on raiders, mutants and anyone else dumb enough to cross their paths. It was a win-win situation for him. He got to have some fun and help people; dishing out vigilante style justice to the scumbags of the wastes and he got to do it with HER. Not for the first time, his thoughts turned to Macha for the morning.

She was...something else. When he had first saw her- Pipboy on her arm- all shiny and new stumbling out of the Vault, he had thought: This dame is gonna be dead in a day. Swallowed up by the Commonwealth and it won't even have the decency to spit out her bones. It was why he had planned on getting involved when he saw Finn attempt to extort her. Never could resist a damsel in distress. Plus, the fucker owed him quite a few caps and he had warned him several times about that insurance racket.

But even then, she surprised him. She had stood up to Finn, advising him he would be the one who needed insurance if he fucked with her. He had watched from the shadows, applauding her spirit. Finally, someone else that wasn't just content to stand by and take people's shit. He had taken a shine to her from that moment.

_Just a shine John?_ That little voice inside his head chimed in. He grumbled, pissed that it had made an early appearance. He hated hearing himself think. His buzz was wearing off. Hancock was pondering what chem he wanted to take to quiet his infernal mind when he noticed Macha exit her home.

He felt a little thrill seeing her with her gun slug across her shoulder. Good they were on the move. About time. He was stagnating in this place. He rose from the patio chair, intent on joining her, but only made it a step when he notice she was talking to the dog.

Oh. Hancock felt a small stab of envy. She was taking the dog. He sat back down and lit another cigarette. Well, fine by him. She could take the damn dog if she wanted to. It was her right. He was just hoping... _Hoping what John?_ That nagging voice in his mind whispered. _That you could go with her again? Just the two of you..._ _all alone_ _? Watching her back... and other things... as you f_ _ight_ _your way across the Wastes?_

"Shut the fuck up." He told his brain. Ughhhhh... he was getting a headache. All this fresh air and sunshine. He needed to find a dark bar and wall himself inside it for a few days until he felt normal again. He pinched his fingers to his brow, trying to will the pain away. His attempt to clear his mind was interrupted by a curious whimper to his left. He opened his eyes to see Dogmeat, head cocked quizzically to the side, regarding him with interest.

"Yeah? What are you looking at?"

The dog stared at him for a moment, then whined and looked over his shoulder. John followed the dog's gaze and found himself once again, watching Macha. She stood in the middle of the road, staring up at the hill, as if trying to decide on something. Her fists were balled up tight, shoulders square as she stared down the hill as if trying to intimidate it.

Hancock puzzled over her strange behavior. He knew the hill contained the Vault she escaped from. Hell, he had stood behind her as she told Valentine every sordid detail about her husband's murder and kidnapping of her son. It was the first time he had seen her break down and cry, and he was surprised how much it effected him to see her in that state. He had watched her bottom lip tremble and her fingernails dig into her jeans as she relived that horrible memory once again. Seen the tears run down her cheek as she described being trapped, helpless while a bald man with a scar put a bullet in her husband's heart and wrenched their babe from his dieing arms. He found his own fists curled in rage as he witnessed her pain, her suffering, and silently vowed to help her find this Kellogg and end him in the worst way he could come up with. And he had been there to quietly admire her as they tracked the bastard down and she put a well deserved bullet between his eyes.

Dogmeat circled the chair and whined again, seemingly in distress. He sat near Hancock and whimpered. Looked to him. To Macha and back to him. Wait. Why is the dog here? I thought she was taking him?

Her noticed her outfit then. Not the normal armor she traveled in, but dirty overalls and a plain shirt. Her hair was in a tight bun, wrapped close to the base of her neck. One gun.. overalls... and a shovel? He ran his hand over his face to make sure what he was seeing wasn't induced by the chems. Nope. Still there. She had gone to the nearest storage shed and pulled out a shovel. It was slung over her shoulder as she took a final deep breath and headed up the hill, towards Vault 111.

Somewhere in his drug addled mind, the synapses flashed and it all came together.

"Well...shit." He cursed, putting his cigarette out as he stood to follow her.

* * *

You were one of the fortunate if you got a burial in the Commonwealth. There were no morticians or morgues, no one to handle the dead save the loved ones left behind. And even then, the time and energy spent digging a grave was better spent guarding against danger or working the fields. By the time a hole was dug deep enough to deter radroaches and wild mongrels from extricating the body, a day's labor was wasted and tomorrow would be twice the work. So, most of the bodies were burnt, thrown upon heaps of refuse and rotten trees, their ashes cast over the field to help the crops grow. Because that was they way of things. They were dead. You were alive and had to keep on living and maybe something good would come out of their loss and the crops would do better next year. That was life and death in the wastes for the lucky.

The unlucky were left as they fell, gnawed upon by all manor of beasts, their bones glittering white in the sun. Passersby wouldn't know your story, nor care. You were just another corpse in the long endless sea of bones that peppered the world. Brittle and crushed to dust under the feet of those who had not yet joined them.

Macha thought of this as she depressed the button and descended once more into Vault 111. The elevator screeched metal on metal as it lowered, a cacophony of the cries of the damned and lost as she plummeted down. Nate would be among the fortuitous. The fortunate dead at least, for surely the living weren't considered the blessed ones anymore.

The elevator came to a stand still and the gates opened before her as Macha stepped forth into her own private hell. Her breath came in rapid pants, as it always did when she felt that walls closing in on her and the weight of the earth around her. Her heart clenched and she wanted to run.. to flee and never return. _I'm NOT leaving!_ She told herself. _Not till I do what I came to do_. _Panic attack,_ the rational side of her mind supplied. _Hyperventilation. It will pass. Focus on what you CAN do instead of what you can't._ Ok. She could do that. She could force her breathing to slow down. _Good. Next_. She could take a step. And another. And another.

Methodically, she propelled herself down the tunnels, past dead neighbors and friends. People who had come to her baby shower, BBQ'd with her and Nate and had waived to her in morning on her way to work. She kept her vision focused solely that last set of pods- one open and one closed- until she had no where else to go. _Turn around._ Her mind said. OK. She could do that. Slowly she pivoted and faced him, one last time.

He was unchanged from the last time she had seen him. Still slumped over, chin on chest, a frozen ring of blood trailing down his vault suit.

"Nate." She said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I did it. I killed that bastard. And I know where Shaun is."

She rested the palm of her hand on the glass panel that separated them, caressing his face through the glass. "But.. it wont be easy to get to him. This whole thing hasn't been easy... The world has changed so much... and … and.."

She broke down then, unable to hold back the tears. "I can't tell anymore if I should be sad you are gone or happy that you are so you don't have to see what has happened to our world."

It hurt to say because it was true. She was no longer certain she wanted him to be a part of this world. To witness what she had become to survive. The fantasy of them walking out of the Vault, hand in hand, had shattered long ago. It was pure selfishness on her part that kept his ghost alive so she wouldn't be so lost and alone in a world that she didn't belong to. She was overwhelmed with people looking to her for guidance and hope for reasons she couldn't fathom when all she wanted to do was curl up and disappear inside herself. She was living a lie. All these people thought she had the answers to all their problems when none of them could see her floundering. Everyone thought she was in control, but she was always on the edge; always threatening to slip. Old Macha versus New Macha. Which one was the lie and which one the truth?

No. Nate was better off not seeing her like this. His confident successful wife reduced to a cold and violent woman that weighed a person's worth in their risk to her life and her goals. Every time she pulled the trigger, it wasn't bravery or valor that drove her to it, but fear. Because that's what you did if you wanted to survive in the Commonwealth. You killed them before they killed you. Instead, she said the only thing she knew for certain at that moment. "I miss you so much."

_It's time._ Her mind whispered gently. The wedding band on her ring finger glinted dully in the florescent light as her hand hovered over the OPEN button on Nate's cyro pod. _Push the button._ Ok. She could do that. Macha closed her eyes, and pressed the button.

* * *

The muscle under Hancock's eye twitched as the elevator banged to a stop at the entrance of Vault 111. So much for keeping a respectful distance and making sure she was OK. There was no way she had missed that and it had not improved his headache any. He sighed in exasperation as he pushed the gate open looked around. So, this was a vault? It was...cozy.. that was for certain. Nothing a large dose of chems couldn't fix, but not someplace he'd want to be stuck in for a long period of time. And fuck.. did the lights have to be so fucking bright?

Well, she knew he was here.. or at least someone was here. No hiding that now. He wandered the corridors, wondering how large the place was or if he would get lost an endless labyrinth. He stopped short when he saw the body on the floor. He had been laid out, arms crossed over his chest and eyes shut.

"Damn." Hancock muttered as stood over Macha's late husband. The man was.. had been, handsome in a rugged kinda way. Dark hair, stubble and a square jaw, wedding band still visible on his left hand. The same style band Macha wore. Hancock felt a strange surge of ensurient satisfaction at seeing Nate's body. Not because he bared a dead man any ill will, but because she had cried over him. Her beautiful perfect husband that hadn't been there to protect her. That had left her all alone in this fucked up world. _Jealous?_ The voice rang out in his mind, echoing in his brain. He pushed it down and locked it up, just as he did with most things in his life he didn't want to or know how to deal with.

Well, here was the spouse. Where was the widow?

As if in answer to his unspoken question, he heard a voice ring out behind him.

"You are lucky I'm not in one of my shoot first and ask questions later moods, Hancock." Macha said appearing from the shadows at his back. "I don't think even your hat can fix a hole in the head."

Damn. She was getting good at the stealthy shit. He must have walked right by her and not even seen her. He turned in time to she her holster her weapon and regarded him with flashing angry eyes, her mouth turned down in displeasure.

"Something you need, Hancock?" She spat out, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture.

If he could have blushed in mortification, he would have. What was he thinking, barging in on her like this? Something obviously very private and personal and he had just charged without thinking. He tried to say something to show he meant no harm. "Hey, look, if you wanna get outta here..."

She stood staring coolly at him for moment, then her features softened. "I...I can't leave. Not yet. I have to... to.."

Her voice trailed off as she gazed at Nate's body and Hancock watched as the hard steel in her body folded up on itself like stressed metal and fractured. "He's too heavy." She moaned. "I … I cant lift him.. his body... the body."

She turned her face to him, eyes shining with unshed tears. A soft plea, full of despair, "Will you help me? Please. I … I can't do this alone."

"Of course."

How could he say anything else.

* * *

They worked in shifts, digging throughout the late afternoon until they had a hole big enough to keep the elements and rodents away. She had wrapped his body in a sheet and together, they lowered it into the ground. He was the one to shovel the first spade full of dirt on the corpse, insisting she sat down and rested.

Her face was weary and pale, red eyed from the tears she still occasionally wept and dirt streaked from when she tried to wipe them away before he would notice. He popped a few chems when his endurance flagged and shed his coat in the afternoon heat and shovel by shovel, he buried the man Macha had loved.

* * *

Up on the hill, near the entrance to Vault 111 sits a crude cross fashioned out of sticks and duct tape on an otherwise unmarked grave. Sometimes catching the twilight sun, a pair of wedding bands draped over the cross by cotton yarn will wink over the town of Sanctuary Hills. A fallen star whose dream failed to come true when it crashed to earth.

This was the physical remnant Macha left behind on the hill that day. The unseen things, the things that really mattered were shed with every scoop of dirt that went into that godforsaken grave. As she and John descended the hill, she walked a little taller. A little less weight on her shoulders. Sure, there was still all the Minutemen drama, Shaun was still missing, and the world had still gone to shit, but she had some closure. Kellogg's death and now the burial of Nate. Soon, the war would be over. Old Macha would fully die and maybe New Macha could finally stop feeling so damn guilty about surviving when so many hadn't.

Her back tensed as Preston caught sight of her approaching her house.

"General." He called to her, flagging her down. "I just got word some settlers need help-"

"Not today, Preston." She cut him off, opening the door and stepping into her shack. Today, she was done. She just need to relax. And take care of herself for once.

"Oh. OK General." Preston replied flabbergasted. "But we shouldn't wait to long, there are super-"

She didn't let him finish his sentence. Once Hancock passed the threshold, she slammed the door in Preston Garvey's face, ending the conversation.

"Hey." Hancock stated, concern apparent on his face, and perhaps ..disappointment. "Maybe we should-"

"Hancock... please..not today. Tomorrow. I promise. But today.. Today.. I just need.. something else."

He knew what she meant. She had been asking for it a lot lately. When the night terrors got so bad she couldn't sleep. And he was happy to oblige. Happy to help and give her what he could.

He cracked a smile. "I think at this rate I have officially become your supplier."

"Not a bad deal for you." She said as she tied a piece of surgical tubing around her upper arm and felt for the vein. "Having the General of the Minutemen in your pocket."

"I have something new for you to try today. Something special." He dug around in his coat and whipped out a syringe of glowing purple liquid as he joined her on the couch.

"Calmex." He explained showing her the vial. "Very rare. I was saving it for a shitty day. I'd say this qualifies."

"Pshhhhh. You aren't kidding, brother." She exclaimed and offered her arm to him. He felt for her vein with deft, experienced fingers and painlessly slipped the needle under her skin.

She had a brief moment to wonder when she had began trusting him so much, this strange ghoul who was shooting her full of chems. This man who had helped her bury Nate; had been there for her when no other had, without asking. Then the serum entered her body and the world exploded- not in nuclear fire- but colors and songs. She could taste the notes on the tip of her tongue and they were delicious. A bitter sweet melody dancing across her taste buds- like raspberries and dark chocolate.

"Mmmmmmm." Macha moaned, sending an involuntary shudder of pleasure up Hancock's spine. He couldn't help to wonder if he could ever make her moan like that without the use of chems. He felt a pang of remorse at that thought. For fuck's sake, he had just helped her bury her husband.

"That's nice."

Her voice brought him back to the present. Hancock chuckled, watching as her head lolled back and she relaxed into the couch and sunk deeper into her high. She was so beautiful, even covered in dirt. A blissful smile touched her face, for once bereft of the sadness it typically carried. He wondered what made her smile so, so he asked.

"You are smiling, Macha."

"Mmmmm? Am I?" She sighed happily, eyes closed and head resting on the back of couch. "Guess so... doooooo.. you ..knowww why?"

"Because I just gave you a shit ton of chems." Hancock teased.

"There...is that..." She breathed, looking at him through slitted eyes. "Butttt... it's more than that. It's because …. I can.. finally.. let him go."

Hancock tended to her as she drifted off and fell asleep. When she was almost out, he lifted her from the couch and took her upstairs to her bed, feeling a slight rush when she reflexively put her arms around his neck. He gingerly laid her down on her mattress and went to disengage her arms from his neck when she suddenly pulled him into a kiss. It was a chaste kiss on the lips, but so soft and tender his knees nearly buckled. Heart hammering, he gently pulled back from her embrace, positioning her on the bed and covering her up with a blanket.

He stood over her, torn and confused over what just happened and whether to stay or go. No, he thought. If anything happens between us, I want it to be her choice. Not influenced by chems or grief. _Anything happens, John?_ The voice was back, burrowing in his brain with the tenacity of a rabid mole rat. _She's too good for you, and you know it. Why would anyone like her be interested in your ugly mug? You saw what she had. Do you really think you could make her happy? Do you really think you can keep her safe?_ _Compared to you, Nate was fucking perfect and you are actually deluding yourself that you have any chance._

He went to shut her door, intent to go downstairs and kill as many brain cells as possible to terminate the voice, when Macha called out softly. "Good night...Nate."

* * *

John Hancock went on one of the biggest binges of his life that night. He awoke the next morning in the Brahmin feed tub, the cow chewing cud nosily over him. His head was on fire but he was still fully clothed, so that was a win. He tried to stand and failed, his feet slipping on one of the many bottles of bourbon resting in the trough with him and on the ground. Needles, a few empty tins of mentats, a jet inhaler or two littered the pasture. A shadow appeared over him and the figure of Preston Garvey peered down at him, shaking his head in disdain.

"Do I even want to know?" The straight laced Minuteman asked in disgust.

John squinted up at the man, wishing he would move over just a smidgen to the left and block the sun with that goofy hat of his. His brain fired sluggishly and he realized he didn't recall a damn thing from last night. He remembered Macha...and there was digging... and a body...the rest was a blur of noise and color and would somebody stop that fucking Brahmin from chewing so loudly?!

"Errrr... Wish I could tell you...if you find out .. would you mind telling me?"

"Ugh." Preston snarled repugnance, turning away from the hung over ghoul.

"Preston!?" Macha voice rang clear throughout the settlement. "Have you seen..Han-.. Oh, there you are."

Macha came running up, already dressed in her armor, weapon at the ready. Her welcoming grin was replaced with confusion as she spied John sprawled out in the feed trough. "Hancock? Are you..OK?"

John feigned surprise, glancing around as if caught off guard. "You mean this ISN'T an exclusive bathhouse? Man.. I thought maybe I just hadn't drunk enough and the women in this joint were really ugly, but turns out they actually WERE a bunch of fat old cows."

Macha giggled and shook her head, not in derision, but in that way that said -only you John. Only you. He didn't know why, but that simple gesture made his head hurt a little less.

"Come on," She offered him a hand up. "We have super mutants to kill."

He felt a flash of unexplained heartache as their hands touched, but pushed it away and focused on his unceremonious dismount from the trough. When he was finally on his feet- albeit, unsteadily- he automatically went to fix his hat and notice her hand still encompassed his own.

Macha smiled at him, a new light in her eyes, and gave his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before releasing him and starting towards the bridge that led out of Sanctuary Hills. Shielding his eyes against the sun, he gave chase.

"Wait a second." Preston called out to him. "Who's gonna clean up this mess?"

Hancock shrugged and ran to catch up with Macha. "Sorry." He called over his shoulder. "Gotta go hunt down super mutants. General's orders."

Hancock slowed as he caught up to Macha, laughing as Preston called Hancock a word he was surprised the conservative man knew. Together, the walked side by side into the world, so close their hands occasional bumped together, but neither one seeming to care enough to put any more distance between them.


	5. The Brewing Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Sanctuary Hills.
> 
> Relationship: Flirting
> 
> Warnings: bad humor, cursing and naughty thoughts

"

It was different every time, but still the same sense of helplessness. This time she was running down endless corridors in the Vault and something was chasing her. She didn't know what it was and had never seen it, but she instinctively knew if she glanced back it would be upon her, devouring her. So, she kept sprinting. Running and running down twisted metal hallways, her panting breath and footfalls echoing off the steel. Her lungs burned white hot, sweat dripped from her brow, her muscles cramped and screamed in agony, but she could not stop.

She rounded the corner of yet another turn and this time, there was no hallway, but a door blocking her path. Panic and adrenaline rushed through her as she hurtled towards the door. Her eyes caught sight of a bright red button on the wall, half way between the hall and the door. She pushed her body further, the sensation of coming apart, unraveling as her muscles stretched beyond their limit. Her hand smacked the button as she flew past. Sirens sounded, deafening in the close quarters, and steam hissed as the door slowly rolled open.

Faster! She willed her body. She had to run faster. It was gaining on her. She was almost there, then the door groaned to a halt, open just barely enough for her to squeeze through. Macha hit the door at full speed, her body already turned to the side, knocking the wind from her as she struggled to wedge herself between the gap. Above the din of the alarms, she could hear the thing stomping behind her, closer and closer.

She managed to squeeze through the gap, just as claws raked down her arm. She hissed in pain as she staggered into the dark room, clutching her arm. The alarm suddenly cut off like nothing existed beyond the room she was in. Light leaked through the crack in the door barely offering any illumination as she felt around and bumped into a wall. Cursing under her breath, she went the opposite direction and immediately ran into another wall. _Small room_ , she thought as she applied pressure to her wound, the steady drip drip drip of blood on the floor and her ragged breathing the only sound. She was trapped.

There was movement at the opening now. A quick flicker of motion and a shadow obscuring the light.

"Come on!" She hissed at the gap. "Show yourself."

In response to her voice, the florescent lights over head suddenly flickered on. Macha screamed. She was back in the cryo pod and before her, just outside the domed glass, was Nate. He wore a sadistic smile as he pushed the lid closed, trapping her inside.

"Nate!" Macha pounded on the glass, trying in vain to break free. "Nate stop! Let me out! NO! STOP!"

Nate just kept smiling at her; that sick deranged grin as he stepped back from the pod and to a control panel. He never took his eyes off her as he turned a dial and the cryo pod began to fill with gas. She heard the crackle of ice and the hiss of the gas as her lower body began to freeze. Her legs turned blue and rooted her in place as she continued to beat on the glass. The air in her lungs iced over and she was unable to yell anymore. The last thing she saw as her eyes glazed over with ice was Nate's terrible smile.

* * *

Macha sat up in bed with a gasp, cold and covered in sweat. Thunder crashed overhead and a flash of green lightening turned her room a sickly pallor.

_Great!_ She thought as she ran her hands over the tired face _. Another radiation storm. Just what I need. Even more rads._ The needle on her Pipboy's geiger counter jumped as another bolt of lightening crashed down. When she was in college, she recalled her professor saying that you couldn't feel the lethal doses of gamma radiation passing through your body. The rays traveled at the speed of light, reaching you in seconds and if you had any chance to feel it, your brain would have died long before you could register the sensation.

Maybe it was psychosomatic, but Macha swore she could feel the rads. They left a funky taste in her mouth, like blood and metal, as if she had wadded up a piece of aluminum foil and proceeded to chew on it. She despised the sensation.

Groaning as she hefted herself out of bed, she stretched and scratched her arm in the same place it was wounded in the dream. Turning the dial on her pip boy revealed it was 3 a.m. Sighing, she hit the sleep button on the Pipboy to save her eyes from the glaring light. She was still having night terrors, even after burying Nate two months ago. Night after night they came to her, jolting her awake. Only the chems helped. Forcing her brain to shut down or focus on other things so she could finally fall asleep.

At the thought of another hit, Macha felt the craving begin. A tickle in the back of her mind, the need was there and drove her to her dresser in search of relief. Macha rummaged around in the top drawer, hunting for a bottle of pills, or needle, or anything really so she could go back to sleep. The lightening flared once more and she slammed the drawer shut. Shit. She was out. _No matter_ , she thought as she descended the stairs. _I'll just find Hancock. He always has something. I need to figure out how to make my own, that way I don't have to rely on him any more._

As she reached the bottom the staircase, an odd noise came to her attention. _Is that.. the Cryolator?_ Turning the corner to her kitchen area, Macha spied Hancock firing a few rounds into her ice cooler. She blinked rubbed her eyes, not sure she wasn't still dreaming.

"Hancock?"

He turned and gave her a charismatic grin. "Hey. Can't sleep?"

He reached into the cooler and fished out a Nuka Cola. It was covered in frost, the glass milky and chilled with ice crystals stuck to the cap. "Want a Nuka-Cola?"

"Hell yeah! Cherry. That's actually pretty brilliant." She observed, taking the offered drink. It was cold. Actually cold. She hadn't had a cold beverage in.. well.. two hundred years. The thunder crashed overhead as held the frigid bottle in her hands. "I can't believe I didn't think of that before. Make sure to stick a few beers in there too."

"I know. Came to me on a mentats high. And here I thought you were the brains of this operation."

"Wait." She pondered as she popped the top off the soft drink and pocketed the cap. "If I'm the brains, what does that make you?"

"The good looking one." He claimed with a wink.

Macha rolled her eyes, plopping down on her red vinyl couch. She pushed several empty beer bottles aside and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Staring back at her, was the TV she had crafted and placed in the living area, tinted green from the latest lightening strike. She turned it on every once in a while, hoping that something would occur. Some sign civilization was returning in the form of news, a sitcom, or even a talk show. Instead, the beige 'Please Standby' stared back at her when she pushed the ON button with her big toe. Sighing, she took a swig of her Cherry Nuka-Cola and immediately got brain freeze. Damn it was good. Wincing, she hit the channel button with her toe, flipping through a few. Please stand by. Please stand by.

"Please stand by." She mocked as she pushed the button one last time before giving up and growling in exasperation.

"All right!" Hancock said sitting besides her with his frosty Nuka- Cola Quantum. "My favorite show."

"Seriously?"

He shook a mentats tin at her. "Everything's better on chems."

She snorted as she took another sip of her Cola. A much smaller sip this time. "I don't know why I built this stupid thing. All it does is waste space. Nothing good is ever on."

Hancock sprawled out on the couch, relaxing as the chems kicked in. He offered her "Mentat?"

Macha waived her hand in dismissal. "I'd rather not think. My head hurts and the rads I'm getting from this storm probably aren't helping. Got anything else?"

He rummaged through some of the pill bottles on the floor and handed her a few Daytrippers.

Macha took the pills, counting them and then asked for another. Raising a brow, he passed her one more as she knocked them back without hesitation chasing them with her Nuka-Cola.

"How'd you make that thing anyway? I thought you talked to people for a living?"

Macha shrugged. "I wasn't always going to be a lawyer. When I first started college, I was going to major in electrical engineering and computer sciences. We were still fighting the Resource War then, and had just launched an invasion into China. We all knew the war was going to continue, we just didn't know for how long or the outcome.

She gave him a grim smile. "I wanted to help people, but I knew if I stayed in the field of science, most likely all my work would go to just finding new and improved ways to kill people. The government had it's claws in almost every research lab and major institute, buying up all the tech and recruiting scientists to develop new weapons. So, I switched my major to a degree in law thinking I could help in a different way. I had just graduated from Boston College a year or so before the bombs fell. Nate had retired from the military, we had Shaun and just moved to the quaint neighborhood of Sanctuary Hills. It was supposed to be the start of a new life... and it was.. just .. not what I expected."

"Yeah.. life's kinda a bitch like that, isn't it." Hancock said. "Never does what you want."

"Yeah." Macha mumbled softly as another streak of rad lightening sparked in the sky. She had that far away look again. Like she was here and not at the same time.

"So college." Hancock said, attempting to change the topic. "I've heard some wild stories about what goes on there. Is it true?"

"Depends. What have you heard?"

Hancock leaned forward, a lecherous grin. "Buddy of mine back in Diamond city said he found a holotape containing images of this group of women... in college shirts and .. not much else, having a pillow fight. Said there was a caption of 'Loving Your Sister' or something like that and an article about them all.. you know..living together... loving one another and their fellow man."

Macha hid a smile behind her hand. It sounded like his friend had found an old Playboy holo with the stereotypical college girl article.

"You mean a sorority?" She asked once she composed herself.

"Yeah. That's right. So.. is it true?"

Macha teetered on the edge of steeling him the truth or having some fun. Her mischievous streak got the best of her in the end and she decided to roll with it. She could use a laugh, even at his expense. "Oh yeah. Totally. All the young women, living together in a small dorm. The hormones, the partying, the booze and chems. Things just got crazy sometimes. Pillow fights in your underwear were a weekly thing... and showering together.. and then there was the hazing.

"Hazing?" Now he was really interested.

Macha took another sip of her Cola to hid the smile that threatened to ruin her carefully arranged set up. "In order to join the sorority, the sisters had to approve of you. Typically, a girl was inducted into the sisterhood by undergoing a series of trials to please her sorority sisters."

"Go onnnnnnnnnnnnn." He drawled out the on with smarmy inflection. "I like where this is going."

Macha sighed wistfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I remember I was trying to get into this one prestigious sorority. Kappa Kappa Gamma. I had passed all their trials, but the senior sister- Sue- didn't really care for me from some reason, so she kept making up new tasks for me to do to pass initiation."

The chems were starting to kick in now, but not quite as fast as she wanted. She should have had a pretty decent high going on by now. Macha paused her story to take another pill. A flitting look of concern passed over John's face as he watched her swallow another daytripper, but it was gone before she noticed.

"So this," She continued, pointing to the iconic image of a cherry on the label of her Cherry Cola. "Is a fruit called a cherry. Or...was.. Anyways. And it was widely known that anyone with the dexterity to tie a cherry stem in a knot using only your tongue meant that you were an exceptional kisser. We were all drinking at the sorority house one night and Sue bet me that I couldn't do it. At this point, she had me do so many tasks and kept giving me more that I was fed up. It seemed to me that no matter what I did, it was never enough and she was just toying with me; seeing how much I would take and never really intended to let me join. That, night, in front of all the sisters, I challenged her back. I told her that I would not only tie the cherry stem in a knot MY tongue, but I would use HER tongue as well."

Hancock shifted in his seat, suddenly very hot. He pulled at his jabot trying to breathe and cleared his throat. "Yeah? And? Did she accept?"

"Of course. She couldn't back down and lose face in front of all her sorority sisters. So she placed the cherry stem on her tongue, like so."

Macha demonstrated with an ice chip that had come loose from her soda. He watched, enthralled as her pink tongue caught a drop of water and curled around the ice chip, savoring it as she pulled it back into her mouth. Hancock swallowed hard. He was having some very impure thoughts at the moment. More so than usual. And he pants were suddenly uncomfortable.

"Then what?" He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he tried to talk. His voice was a bit hoarser than normal.

"Well, I crawled over to her." Macha leaned forward for emphasis and he caught a glimpse her cleavage peaking through her bathrobe. "And took her face in my hands and pressed my lips against hers, seeking out the cherry stem. Ohhhh, her lips were so supple and yielded to me as our mouths intertwined. I could feel her breath on my face and the heat rising from her as our bodies drew close together. We must have been going at it for a few minutes or so, but that stem was just so slippery. It kept evading me. Then her tongue moved with mine, working together, tracing the roof of my mouth as we twisted that stem into all kinds of positions."

_Positions_. Hancock pulled the corner of his trench coat over his lap at the imagery that generated. VERY impure thoughts. Goddamn, he was going need a cigarette after this.

"At that point, we both forgot about the stem and just got lost in each other. In the smoothness of our lips and the rush of need for each other. Her hands were everywhere, gliding over my body. And all the sorority sisters watched on as we made out with each other. I had swallowed the stem, but it didn't matter. When we pulled apart, our chests heaving, our bodies flushed, I knew I had won. There would be no more trials. I had finally satisfied her."

"So, what happened then?" He had to know. He was burning to know.

"Whatever grudge she had mysteriously disappeared. I was admitted into the sisterhood. A few days later, I passed the stem; tied into the perfect knot."

"No way." He grinned.

"True story." Macha said, barely containing herself and almost spoiling it. "I shit you not."

It took him a moment to register what she had just said. He sat back blinked, looked confused, then understanding dawned on his face and he gaped at her.

Macha lost it, unable to hold back any more, she burst out in ringing peels of laughter that almost overtook the rolling thunder. "Oh my God! You should see your face. The utter look of betrayal!"

She was crying now, doubled over and about to fall off the couch in her fit of laughter.

"You are, without a doubt, the worst kind of person." Hancock stated flatly. He reached over and patted her back as her laughter dissolved into coughing.

"Oh come on." Macha replied, wiping tears from her eyes and gasping for breath. "There are at least... ten people in the Commonwealth worse than me."

"Marginally." Hancock flashed her a grin. He was a little sore at her for yanking his chain, but he had to admit, it was a good one.

"Mad at me?" She pouted, eyes fully dilated now from the drugs.

"You know I can't stay mad at you."

She surprised him then, by leaning on him and putting her head on his shoulder. "I know. That's one of the things I love about you."

John's heart seized at those words, and after a moments hesitation, John put his arm around her shoulders as they both got comfortable on the couch. The thunder roiled above them, lightening crashed around them and he felt empowered by it. Or maybe it was the chems.

Whatever the reason, he finally found the nerve to say something he had wanted to for a long time. "Throwing in with you has been one of the best decisions of my life. You have been one hell of a friend, Macha. There is no one I'd rather have watching my back out there."

He waited for her reaction, fearing that she would pull away. That she would see him for what he truly was and reject him, even his friendship.

She pulled at a stray string on his pant leg and was silent a long while before answering. He barely heard it above the din of another lightening strike.

"And that's what we are? Just friends."

His heart thundered in time with the storm. "Well, now that you mention it, I have been having slightly more impure thoughts than usual. Especially with what you just told me."

He felt her shoulders shake as she chuckled quietly.

They both fell into a comfortable silence as they stared at the 'Please Stand By' screen, the rad storm slowly passing over head.

"You are right." She replied dreamily as she sighed in his arms, face lit by the TV screen. "This show is awesome."


	6. e pluribus unum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Museum of Witchcraft in Salem, MA
> 
> Spoilers: Devil's due quest
> 
> Listening to: A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope
> 
> Warning: cursing, kissing and deathclaws

The floorboards above their heads creaked in protest with the weight of whoever, or whatever, stomped around above them. Dust rained down on Macha, and she fought to hold back a sneeze, lest she alert whatever that was to their presence. She flinched as the boards above her buckled and sagged an alarming amount as it paced above them. _Ok then. Not certain I want to know what that is,_ she thought as it moved further ahead of them.

Macha glanced at Hancock, hunched next to her in the basement of the Salem Witchcraft Museum. The room was nearly pitch black and Macha was torn between turning on the light so she could see and risk alerting whatever was in here, or stumbling blindly through the shadows. Hancock's dark eyes gleamed in the dim light, the ghoul right at home in the dark and foreboding place. He noticed her glancing his way and gave her a reassuring smile.

Turning back towards the looming stairs, Macha snuck forward. A limb dangling from a hole in the ceiling caught her eyes. As she glanced up, the arm was suddenly ripped from the hole and a gush of blood and body parts pelted the ground at her feet. Macha froze as she heard the sounds of bones snapping. Something was eating the body. Something large and apparently very hungry; growling and snarling as it rained down blood on them.

"Nope!" Macha whispered fiercely as she turned around, duck walking back to the exit. _Please don't hear me. Please don't hear me._ She chanted in her head.

"Where are you going?' Hancock teased. "At least we know it's not hungry any more."

Macha turned and gave him a glare that could have peeled the remaining paint off the walls. She motioned with her gun, back up the dark stair well. "You go test that theory. I'll wait here."

She wanted to go and be anywhere but here. Her primal instincts were screaming at her to leave now, causing her skin to break out in goose bumps and the hair on the nape of her neck to stand on end. Fear was gnawing at her spine because she knew; she knew what that was up there. She had heard those growls before when she first met Preston.

Rising up from the depths of the sewers like the Devil in a Faustian play, the deathclaw had torn through several raiders before charging her. Even fully protected by the power armor, she had felt the raw strength of the beast as it tossed her around like a rag doll. She could still hear its deafening roar and smell the fetid breath upon her face from when it had all but disemboweled her.

After emptying clip after clip, round after round, it still stood; tenacious and refusing to just die. Since then Macha had faced down Mirelurk Queens, super mutants, psycho raiders and more. They scared Macha, but when adrenaline kicked in she was able to use that fear and fighter harder. It became an asset. Yet deathclaws terrified her. They froze her as surely as the Cyrolater, rooting her in place and rabbiting her heart. They were death personified; the devil coming to collect your soul.

"That's a deathclaw up there." Macha pointed above them and shook her head. "I don't give a fuck about what's in here. Nothing is worth facing that."

John looked at her skeptically. "What would a deathclaw be doing in a museum?"

"I don't know. Getting cultured? Who cares? I'm not going up there."

Hancock chuckled with mirth, but Macha noticed he kept his voice low. "Where's your sense of adventure Macha?"

"Apparently it took a vacation along with your common sense, John." She hissed curtly.

"It will be fun. Come on. One hundred caps says it's just some ghouls or maybe a yao guai that is nesting. They hit hard, but nothing we can't handle. Besides, you got nothing to worry about with me covering you."

Her palms were sweaty just thinking about it. No. He was wrong. She knew he was wrong. "I need to think."

Opening the cellar door as quietly as possible, she walked out into the crisp morning air, glad to be out of that horrid place. Hands trembling, she put down her gun and wiped them on her pants. She had to get a hold of herself, she rationalized, scratching her arm. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. She needed.. she needed some chems. Yeah. That's what she needed. Something to take the edge off. Something to help, because they always helped and made her feel better.

Practically ripping off her pack, Macha knelt in the dirt and rooted around; searching for the chems she had crafted earlier. She was getting better at combining them and had successfully merged the chemical properties of buffout and psycho together. It made a potent combination, one she was glad she discovered. She seemed to be building up a tolerance for the normal stuff. This batch was more effective and faster acting.

"Hey," Hancock winced as he stepped into the light. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." She growled. "Just looking for something."

John watched her for a moment, wondering why she was so irritable today. Maybe it was that mirelurk omelet she ate for breakfast? He had warned her that they were disgusting creatures. After watching one spawn, he could never eat shellfish again. She scratched her arm some more, the spot now angry red where her nails had raked the flesh.

"Aha." She exclaimed in triumph. Macha pulled forth a syringe of psychobuff from her bag. _A_ _h, chem break._ Hancock thought approvingly. _Y_ _eah, the lighting is better out here._ He was oddly hurt she didn't ask him for any of his stash. _Hmmm.? That's new. I haven't seen that kind of chem before._

The syringe had two vials attached on either side of it with copper tubing coming out that fed back into the syringe. It was larger and bulkier than the standard psycho and Macha struggled positioning it with her shaking hands.

"Here" John offered, kneeling besides her. "Let me. You should have let me know you needed a chem break."

He expertly lined the needle up with her vein and slipped the cool steel into her arm. She sighed in relief when he injected the serum into her arm, her pupils widening like eclipsed moons.

A maniacal grin spread across her face as the powerful drug flooded her system. She was invincible. Alive. Every nerve was animated and on fire, every muscle taunt and ready for action. She was a warrior queen; Macha the Irish goddess of War, just like the deity she was named after. What a weakling she had been; scared over a silly deathclaw. Why, she could rip its head off with her bare hands right now.

Macha handed the second one to Hancock, feeling a rush as his eyes rolled back in his head when he injected himself. It was oddly sexy watching his face contort with pleasure as the chems kicked in. His black eyes were now alert, darting around excitedly and enjoying the rush of chemically created adrenaline.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed. "What is that?"

"I've been experimenting. Guess my back ground in science can extend beyond computers."

"Sister, I could kiss you right now. This is gotta be the best high I've ever had. I fell like I can take on anything, even a deathclaw."

Without thinking, Macha leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"For luck." She explained when he gave her a questioning glance.

He leered at her and pointed to his other cheek. "How about evening me out? If it is a deathclaw, I need all the luck I can get."

"It IS a deathclaw. Tell you what, IF we survive this, I will someday show you just why Sue let go of her grudge and let me join the sorority. No cherry stem needed."

Hancock blinked, taken aback. "I thought you were joking about that?"

"Was I?" Macha gave him a sly grin and winked at him. The she stood suddenly, and picked up her gun, heading back to the museum cellar.

"Come on." She stated, heading back down the stairs. "Let's go kick its ass."

* * *

"You owe me a hundred caps." Macha whispered in a mocking sing song -I told you so- tone.

Being right wasn't worth the gloating. The enormous deathclaw was hunched over the remains of a Gunner, gorging himself. Macha felt sick to her stomach as they crouched low and peered around the corner, watching it feast. Thankfully, its back was towards them and it seemed too engrossed in whatever –or whoever- it was eating to notice them.

"If you were saving any grenades, now would be the time to use them." Hancock muttered, following Macha silently back down the stairs so they could plan.

"You want me to throw grenades in a small enclosed place like this?"

Hancock assessed the room. They were on the third floor of the museum. The hardwood flooring was littered with gaping holes, the walls buckling and many of the building's main support beams had fallen askew. A grenade in this place would likely cause the building to collapse around them. There were a lot of ways to die in the Commonwealth, but buried under a ton of rubble was on the bottom of his list.

"No." He admitted. "What's the plan then?"

"Why don't you go distract it by asking if it's still hungry? I'll stay here and snipe it from a safe distance."

"Not gonna happen, sister."

She shrugged and chewed her bottom lip for a moment and then he saw her eyes light up as she got an idea. "Actually, that may just work. Not grenades. Mines. I'll cripple it with a lock joint syringe. We've only got ten seconds to move." She handed him a handful of mines. "Concentrate right under its feet. Hopefully we can do enough damage to its legs it won't be able to run. Then we can pick it off."

It was a sound plan; not without it's risks, but better than just charging in and firing. Deathclaws could leap far and had a long reach. Hancock had seen one decapitate a super mutant once. That was also on the bottom of his list of ways to die. His preferred method was surrounded by naked women so stoned and oversexed his heart gave out. He was holding out for that one.

"I'm better at sneaking than you. Wait till my signal and then throw the mines."

Macha took a deep breath and snuck back up the stairs. The beast was stripping the meat off a leg and she winced as she heard it's powerful jaws crack open the femur. _J_ _ust a little further_ she thought as she crept along. Her goal was just a few feet away; an alcove to the southeast of the beast. Part of the drywall had crumbled away and offered the perfect perch for her to snipe.

She froze mid step as the deathclaw lifted its muzzle to the air and sniffed. The seconds that ticked by were excruciating due to the drugs in her system slowing everything down. The ticked by like hours as her leg cramped and a bead of sweat ran down her temple. Finally, after a century, it put its head back down and resumed eating.

Hardly daring to breathe, Macha slipped silently into the corner and readied her rife. The lock joint syringe slid into place with a satisfying click and she gave John a quick nod before getting into position. The deathclaw in her sights, she pulled the trigger. The dart flew swift and true, embedding itself in the creature's backside.

Macha's holler of "Now!" was drowned out by the vicious snarl of the deathclaw, but Hancock was already moving. Armed mines flew from his hands as the deathclaw froze in place. Macha threw a few of her own and then ducked back behind the relative safety of the wall.

The explosion that followed jarred her teeth and nearly sent her sprawling. She coughed in the cloud of dust that blossomed and rolled away from the explosion site. White chalky debris quickly filled the room, obscuring their sight.

"John?!" She called, fearing for the ghoul's safety. She equipped her sniper rifle and peered through the night-vision scope, hunting for any sign of the deathclaw or John. She couldn't see anything! "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine." His voice was hoarse and a bit pained.

"Where is it!? Do you see it?" The dust was starting to settle finally. Macha's heart raced, thinking any second the monster would be upon her. She whorled left and right, seeking the deathclaw out. She saw a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye and fired randomly.

"That was me Macha!"

Shit! "Sorry. Are you hit?" She coughed, the dust was clearing.

"Just grazed." He followed her voice and joined her at her side. There was a tear in his coat on his arm and a trickle of blood running down the sleeve. "You are getting the bill for the repairs."

"You can take it out of the 100 caps you owe me." She grumbled, still scanning.

The dust dispersed and they discovered why they couldn't see the deathclaw. A crater now was present where the deathclaw had dined. The floor had bent in on itself, collapsing downwards and taking the deathclaw with it. One of its legs had flew against the wall, staining it a vivid red.

"Ummmm. I think we may have used too many." Macha grimaced.

A pitiable mewling noise traveled up the hole. Macha inched forward and saw the deathclaw trapped under flooring and beams, both its legs blown off. It was trying to crawl away, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. Macha raised her weapon and shot it in the back of the head. It's neck jerked and its body spasmed, but it was still alive; Still crawling pathetically away, trying to escape. The demon that had terrified her had been reduced to wretched sad mess. She should have felt triumphant in her victory but she didn't.

"Ohhhhhhhh….Just die already. You are making me feel bad." Macha whined at the retreating deathclaw. She took aim again and this time the deathclaw stilled, a final sigh of breath escaping as it expired.

* * *

"Are you nuts!?" Hancock exclaimed as Macha cradled the egg. "You want to take it BACK to the nest?"

"Well…yeah." Macha hugged the egg defensively. "It's a mother looking for her baby. Are you really surprised I want to return it?"

No. He wasn't, but if that's what she wanted to do he would support her in it. But he wouldn't enjoy it. "Fine! Let's just get this over with."

She grinned victoriously and tucked the egg away in her pack, wrapping it up in an old newspaper she had swiped. Hancock shook his head as she began her usual ritual of picking up anything that wasn't nailed down.

"Can you check that register?" She asked pointing to the old machine that was resting on the gift shop counter. "See if there is anything useful."

"Sure."

The drawer sprang open with a warped CHA-CHING, revealing some prewar bills and round silver coins. "Is any of this actually worth anything?"

He fished out one of the round coins and examined it. He sounded out the tiny print stamped on one side. "E Pluribus Unum. What the hell does that mean?"

"Out of many, one or one from many." Macha said in explanation as she joined him. "It's in Latin. The motto of the United States. Kinda similar to your phrase for Goodneighbor. It means that when we all come together we are one. One people. That's the Massachusetts state quarter. See? There's the Minutemen."

She pointed to the figure of on the face of the quarter backed by a silhouette of the state. John ran his thumb over the coin, surprised at her knowledge.

"One from many." He mumbled. Two parts becoming a whole, banding together despite differences to become one unit and stronger for it. He liked it. It was a powerful phrase, like of the people, for the people.

Macha closed his fist around the quarter. "You should keep it. A souvenir of sorts. We just took on a deathclaw and kicked its boney ass."

Hancock inspected her hand on top of his, smooth skin on top of scared and pock marked, hands that had both killed and helped. John was suddenly struck by a sense of rightness of this moment. Despite their differences, they had came together and made a difference in the world. One from many. And that is when John Hancock realized for the first time that he was in love. That he would follow this woman to the ends of the broken world if she wanted him to. That all the chems and all the running he had done in his life was just because some part of him was missing and he was trying to fill the void. She made him whole. She was what he had been searching for all this time. His missing piece.

She tilted her head and glanced at him quizzically. "Quarter for your thoughts?"

And suddenly he was embarrassed. All his smooth confident lines flew from his head and he was naked before her, not knowing how to act or what to say. How could he possibly tell her? He couldn't even put into words how he felt. This was all new, unexplored territory.

He had been with women before, flings and the occasional brief tryst here and there, but that was all the same. Hello beautiful. You like my hat? I like your outfit, it would look great on my floor. Titter, giggle followed by a shit ton of chems and booze, a good time, and in the morning he was alone again. The thing was though, he had never FELT alone; had never known what that sensation was until he had met her. Alone was the absence of Macha in his life. The coldness that seeped into his skin when she removed her hand from his. The bitter feeling he got when she went off with Piper or Cait and left him to wonder if he would ever see her again.

Hancock felt all this emotion in a rush faster than any chem. Moments had passed since she asked her question and he still was staring at her dumbly.

"John?" She withdrew her hand, concern creasing her brow.

"Ehhh.. yeah.. just wondering where you learned Latin." It was all he could come up with.

"Oh." She supplied, relieved. "I thought maybe you were having a bad side effect from the chems. Law school. You get to learn all the nifty Latin phrases. Ex injuria jus non oritur. Onus probandi. Vinculum juris. It's really quite boring.. and I guess out dated now..since the person holding the biggest gun is now the law."

Macha scratched her arm absently. "Let's go find the nest before I crash. I'm already starting to feel it and in case mama deathclaw is pissed, I'd rather not have a migraine if we have to fight another one."

Hancock watched her pick up a few more miscellaneous items and then head toward the exit. He turned the quarter over in his fingers and then tucked it safely into the cuff of his coat. Yes. He would keep the token; this memento of his first love and the dawning realization that the women he cared for could never love him back.

* * *

"Nice deathclaw. Good deathclaw. No one has to get eaten tonight." Macha cooed at the looming creature as she inched toward the nest.

Her hand clutched the spotted deathclaw egg, on display for the hulking female deathclaw that had slid down the hill to confront them. The creature snarled and postured, throwing up a cloud of dust as it raked its huge claws through the dirt.

Macha gagged as a clods of dirt and dust showered her, sticking to her lashes and lips.

"Macha!" John kept his voice low as to not anger the beast, but the warning was clear. He had hung back, shotgun at the ready in case it charged her. "Hurry."

"You are making this a lot harder than it needs to be." She hissed through gritted teeth. She was almost there. The bones of some poor animal snapped under her feet as she drew closer. The stench was enough to make her light headed, comprised of decaying flesh, dung, and god only knew what else.

"There's a pretty girl. Just gonna put this here." She felt like an idiot for talking to the death machine that paced before her, but staying silent didn't seem like an option. It was either converse with it like it was a big dog or freak out, hyperventilate and run away. The deathclaw would no doubt give chase, not something she desired either. Much of the chemical courage she had fed off of was wearing off and natural fear replaced the benzodiazepines and opiates that had clouded her judgment. Never taking her eyes off the deathclaw, she gingerly placed the egg in the nest of bones and refuse and back away quickly.

Something caught her eye as she backed away. Bones that seemed different than the rest that were strewn haphazardly on the ground. Two hooked claws, the finger bones of a deathclaw, held together by a metal ring and screws. It looked like a gauntlet of some kind. Macha quickly snatched it up before making a hasty retreat.

The deathclaw roared and reared up, extending its claws in challenge. The message was clear; get the fuck out of here before I tear you to shreds. She supposed that was the closest thing to gratitude she could hope for.

"Great." Hancock said, backing up with her, shotgun still trained on the deathclaw. "Now let's get out of here before that thing decides to feed it to its young."

They backed up simultaneously, both of them deciding to turn and sprint at the same moment. Macha laughed in amazement, panting as they dashed as fast as they could, distancing themselves from the deathclaw. They had done it. They had actually done it. And she had come away with a prize. They ran until they came to an abandoned Red Rocket gas station, both doubling over and panting from the rush and exertion.

"That WAS fun." Macha said between gasps. "Time to ante up."

She poked Hancock in the chest, standing before him, her pink lips stretched into a grin. Her lips. John thought, watching them part slight with the sharp intake of her breath. That's right. She had promised him a kiss if they survived this. She was standing so close to him, looking at him expectantly.

"Well? Time to pay the piper. Come on. What are you waiting for?" She tilted her head to look up at him. Her face was flushed from running, pink spreading across her checks. Her eyes sparkled in the setting sun.

What was he waiting for? She was giving him an open invitation. It was a bit more transactional than he had fantasied, but who was he to judge? She could never love him, but he could at least have this. One more memory to cling onto.

Pushing his tricorn back, he leaned in and kissed her. He caught her breath in his mouth and for one fleeting moment he was lost in the gentle curves of her lips; warm and inviting against his own. Her could taste the saltiness of her and smell the sweetness of her breath. Then he felt her stiffen and push against him, turning her head away from him, backing away. Her eyes round in shock and face a deeper shade of crimson.

"Wha-?" She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Touching the lips he had just kissed. Then the steel hardened in her eyes and anger flashed behind them.

"What the hell, John?"

"You said... We survived.. I thought.. about the kiss." Well he was fucking this up royally.

"I was talking about the CAPS, John! You know, the hundred you bet me that it wasn't a deathclaw?!"

Shit. Hancock mentally berated himself. Of course she was. How could he have forgotten that? He had just heard what he wanted to. Fuck. Was he really that far gone?

"I was joking!" She exclaimed in agitation. "That was a nudum pactum."

She was pacing now, wringing her hands like she couldn't stand still. Her fingers kept going to her lips, like she was trying to wipe away any trace of his touch. The rejection hurt him deeper than he would ever admit. He had flirted with her and she had flirted back. She had even asked him if they were just friends and now she was pulling this shit. Acting all offended, because why.. because he was a ghoul?! It had never mattered before. So why was she acting all coy now? Because he had innocently kissed her? Fuck, that was G-rated compared to some of the things he could do with his tongue. Deep in his mind, he knew the real reason was because he was a ghoul. Because she couldn't stand thinking of him in that way. His embarrassment turned to anger and he lashed out.

"Don't flatter yourself, smooth-skin." He spat out. "It wasn't exactly pleasant for me either. I just did it because I thought it was what you wanted. And speak English! I have no idea what you just said."

"Nudum Pactumn. A naked promise. An unenforceable promise for want of consideration since no corresponding offer of value was exchanged." She was ranting now, almost frenzied. Her hands flew rapidly as she spoke in distress.

He still had no idea what she had said. "You both had me and lost me at the word naked. That's about all I understood."

"Look, just...forget it.. ok? Let's just forget this whole thing ever happened and just.. go back to the way things were. I don't want to fight. I'm...I'm sorry I overreacted. It ...just caught me off guard. I obviously need to work on my communication skills."

Somehow, that hurt worse than the rejection. She wanted to forget it. Act like nothing ever happened and equate what had been something momentous to him down to a simple misunderstanding.

He pulled his hat over his eyes and wouldn't meet her gaze. "Yeah. Sure. Already forgotten."

He tried not to be sullen about it, but it felt like someone dropped a load of cement in his chest. He had been fooling himself anyways. He had known all along this wasn't meant to be.

John sighed. She deserved better than this. Their friendship deserved better. And if that was all there could be between them, then so be it. Loss was a part of life. It sucked and hurt, but he would carry on protecting her. Loving her from a distance because at least it was something. Something to span the growing chasm between them.

He felt the loss already; the absence of her presence as she pulled back and turned away from him. He felt...alone. So, he did what he always did. Bottled it up, shoved the feelings aside and broke the mood with humor. "Just try not to use such big words in the future, especially with the word naked involved. You can understand how I may get confused."

She gave him an uncertain smile and he felt the gap widen a bit more. "Ok. Friends?"

"Friends." He forced a smile and pretended to not be dispirited by the relief he saw in her eyes.

* * *

John lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He glanced at the slumbering form of Macha in the back room of the gas station. He had taken the first watch, needing to be alone with his thoughts. In his free hand, he rolled the quarter over his knuckles, with surprising dexterity. It caught the moonlight and flashed silver as it rolled from finger to finger. He caught it in his palm. E pluribus unum. One from many. His missing piece; both five feet and five hundred miles away from him.

Part of him was pissed. Where did she get off being so self righteous and judgmental? He was what he was. He had never once judged her for being human, being naive about the way the Commonwealth operated, even using chems to help her deal with all the shit life had heaped on her. He took another drag and contemplated throwing the quarter into the darkness. Ultimately, though, he decided against it and put in back in his jacket cuff. After all the fucked up shit he had done in his life, being alone was what he deserved. It was enough, just to be by her side. It would have to be.

In the darkness of the starry Commonwealth night, Hancock told himself many lies and half truths until he fabricated one conclusion. She was better off without him.


	7. Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Cambridge Police Station and Prydwen
> 
> Spoilers: Danse acquisition and Initial BOS quests.
> 
> Warning: cursing

Ferals. Why was it always ferals? One of her shots split the charging feral's head open like a can of cram dropped on concrete. Its brains painted the barricade behind it a pretty pale pink.

_Macha, Wasteland Interior Decorator at your service._ She snickered at her internal monologue, trying to lighten the mood. Behind the barricade, an intimidating looking man in power armor reloaded his weapon.

"Thank for your help civilian." His greeting was brusque and no nonsense. "But you should clear the area. This territory is controlled by the Brotherhood of Steel. We can take it from here. "

"Funny, from where I stood, it looked like you were being overrun. If my friend and I hadn't saved your ass, the only thing occupying this area would be more corpses."

"Don't expect gratitude from the Brotherhood." Hancock said. "They think they are better than the rest of the Commonwealth."

Macha raised an eyebrow at the malice in his comment. Who had pissed in his sugarbombs? He'd been irate the last few days, their normal joking and conversation spiraling into uncomfortable and strained silences. Things between them hadn't been the same since.. well.

The soldier's lip curled in disgust as he observed Hancock. The ghoul tipped his hat and gave a mocking half bow towards him. Macha felt the tension in the air become palatable even before the soldier's retort. "Keep that thing away from my men. If it goes feral, I will put it down."

Macha blinked in confusion, not understanding what he was referring to. They had killed all the ferals, hadn't they?

"Thing?" She questioned, stupefied.

"Your pet ghoul." He gestured to Hancock and suddenly it became clear. Instant dislike welled up inside her. Of all the- They had both just saved him and his crew and he was insulting John! Macha fumed, a muscle under her eye twitching. What a racist asshole!

_Is it any differently than you treated him?_ Macha's inner voice queried. She felt ashamed when she recalled how she had acted. It was completely immature and she certainly was a bit of a hypocrite. After all, being a ghoul hadn't mattered until he kissed her. She couldn't blame him for being mad or even disappointed with her. She was disappointed in herself. Still, if this soldier thought she was gonna stand by and let him insult her friend, he had another thought coming.

"You're a ghoul!?" Macha gasped at Hancock in counterfeit horror, hoping he wouldn't take this as a further insult and realize she was just toying with this guy. "You mean all the time we have been traveling together, and you never told me?"

Macha watched as he struggled internally for a second, praying the chance to fuck with the Brotherhood would help bridge the gap her reaction had created. It was the closest thing she could offer as an olive branch at the moment; making fun of this bigot and attempting to restore their comfortable banter.

Finally, his ire at the Brotherhood won out. "Well I was going to get it tattooed across my forehead, but the lack of skin presented some problems."

Macha placed both her hands on her face like Munch's The Scream and wailed. "How could I have been so blind? The next town we stop by, I'll have to get some chalk and a chalk board. That way I can write a BIG sign that says 'ghoul' on it."

The soldier was not amused. "I see your taste in humor is a morbid as your choice in companions."

"Wow. Tough crowd." Macha snarked. This guy was really good at pushing her buttons. "I'm looking for a Paladin Danse. I was told he was recruiting for the Brotherhood. Know where I can find him?"

"He is. And you are addressing him."

Greatttttttttttttt! The bigot in charge was the recruiter. Further proof of the world's wicked sense of humor.

"We are too exposed out here and one of my crew is injured. You handled yourself well enough, for a civilian. Let's discuss this inside, before any more of your 'friends' make an appearance. I may have work for you." Without waiting for any acknowledgment, Danse turned on his heel and marched into the doorway of the Cambridge Police Station, leaving Macha and Hancock behind.

"Shooting ghouls with the Brotherhood of Steel huh?" Hancock's eyes narrowed at her in anger. "Let's hope this doesn't become a habit for you."

The comment stung and Macha flinched internally. "Hancock. I told you, this is just because they are the enemies of the Institute. Maybe they can help me find Shaun. We could use the tech and the resources. They have an army and are helping to clean up the Commonwealth. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"Yeah, by cleaning up, you mean killing anything that isn't human. The Brotherhood thinks all ghouls are monsters." He growled, twirling his knife in his hand. "I'll show them who's a monster."

"All I'm saying is let's give them a chance. This twatwaffle can't represent the entire mantra of the Brotherhood. Doesn't everyone deserve a chance at least?" She was referring to more than the Brotherhood, but if he understood that, he ignored her silent plea. She had even used a funny curse word, hoping to get a smile at least.

"I hope you know what you are doing, sister. The last thing the Commonwealth needs is one more member of the Brotherhood."

She frowned, not liking his tone. He had never questioned anything she had done before. He was always supportive about her choices with the Minuteman. Having his anger directed at her left Macha feeling drained. _This is for Shaun._ She reminded herself.

"Even if I join, it doesn't mean I believe the same things they do, John." She told him. "It's just a means to an end, that's all. For my son."

Hancock practically growled. "Alright. But the twatwaffle better watch his mouth before I gut him."

"You say the sweetest things."

Macha waited for him to say something cocky and witty and flash her a smile. Like 'It's part of my charm.' Instead, he just put his knife away and started up the steps toward the doors.

"You comin?" He called over his shoulder. He turned his back on her and went inside without waiting for her.

"Yeah." It was all she could think to say. She stood outside for a bit and scratched her arm. A pit had opened in her stomach and she felt sick without knowing why. _Must be the chems._ She thought as she grabbed a bottle of Buffjet. She spilled a few into her hand and swallowed, then after a moment took another handful and then another. _Just the chems._ _I'll feel better in a bit. Once this kicks in. Gonna need it to deal with Paladin Danse._ She thought as she tossed the empty bottle into the night and headed inside.

* * *

Her dislike of Danse grew more and more each passing minute. The man was arrogant and while she supposed that was a necessary quality for a leader, it came of more as narcissism than confidence. She was grateful of his explanation of synths and their ongoing struggle with the Institute, but the way he talked about eradicating them seem more like genocide than protecting people. Nick was a synth and a good man, and the thought of someone like Danse blowing him apart just because he a synth infuriated her.

The Institute itself was another matter all together. A company that kidnapped small children, murdered people and replaced them with robots. It sounded like something out of one of the Sci-Fi holotapes that Nate had loved to watch. She could almost hear the cheesy voice over from the narrator. Attack of the Metal Men from the Institute! Duh duh duhhhhhhh! It sounded crazy, and she couldn't disparage the Brotherhood for wanting to put an end to that at least.

"Are you listening, recruit?" Danse interrupted her thoughts.

"ArcJet systems. Deep range transmitter. Kill metal men. Got it." Macha really had tuned out most of the things he had said. He was less annoying that way. That.. and things were..kinda.. fuzzy. Maybe... maybe she had taken too much Buffjet.

"Well, that's a condensed version."

"Isn't that why they call it a briefing?" Macha snickered.

Danse sighed. "Stick close and follow orders. Even you should be able to do that."

Danse took off towards the back of the station. Macha's drugged brain watched him bound around in the power armor and compared it to a kid in a bouncy house. He ran with this odd gait, like he was springing forward with each step. _Is that what I look like in my armor?_

Macha thoughts began to bleed into something indiscernible. They were running. And then there was more running. Then they shot at something and all the while Danse would not shut up. It was Brotherhood this and Brotherhood that. It reminded her of her neighbor -what's her face. The one that would always show you pictures of her kids and tell you lengthy stories about how successful they were, regardless of whether you wanted to hear it or not.

Macha blinked in surprise when she realized they were in an elevator. When had they gone inside a building? She was just running and shooting on auto pilot. Danse was still talking, appearing loathsome to share the elevator with Hancock. Macha accidentally brushed Hancock's shoulder with her own and gave him a grin. Confusion and pain accosted her when he pulled back and just gave her a curt nod of his head. _This is what you wanted Macha. Remember? Just friends. You know he cares about you. At least he is trying to be respectful about_ _your personal space and not touch you_ _. He's still by your side, despite it all, helping you_ _with something he obviously doesn't agree with._

She didn't have time to finish her thoughts. When the elevator doors opened, laser fire rained down upon them. Macha took cover behind Danse and squeezed off a few shots. From there, it was a blur of motion and gun fire. They made their way through the facility, a tide of destroyed synthetic men in their wake.

They made it to the control room as Danse was overwhelmed by synths while she restored axillary power. Macha smashed the Engine start button and gaped as the engine primed and flames roared out from the Core, frying the attacking synths.

"Whoa." She gasped as the chems caused the fire to spark and flare in different colors. Reds, golds, purples, greens; a host of phoenixes rising from the ash and flying free.

"Holy shit! Are you OK?" She asked the crouching Paladin. He had taken several shots and the full brunt of the flames.

He waived off her concern and with the deep range transmitter secured, they left the building.

"Well, that could have gone smoother." Danse commented as they exited.

"Smoother?" Macha was slightly offended. She had rocked back there, even with as high as she was. "They are dead, we are alive. I'd say we did great."

"That was sloppy. We were caught unaware more than once because you weren't paying attention. That is unacceptable. However, your extra gun was the edge we needed."

Macha wasn't sure that if that was a compliment or insult. She noted Hancock was completely left out of the conversation. It was like Danse was pretending he didn't exist. Was the man really that dense? Hmmm... dense instead of Danse. Paladin Dense. Macha decided henceforth in her mind he was Paladin Dense and she didn't really care about his approval. She tossed him over the transmitter, willing him to get to the recruiting part so she could get a few pieces of tech and some useful info on the Institute and be done with this.

"I have a proposal." Danse continued. "Despite your unorthodox methods and.. your freakish choice of a traveling companion, the mission was successful. I am.. against my better judgment, going to sponsor you for recruitment."

"Great. It's been an honor." She said sarcastically.

Either Danse was dense or her sarcasm went over his head.

"Meet me back at the police station." Was all he said before he took off.

"So. You are really going to do this?" Hancock said, shaking his head. "You know, if you really wanted someone to boss you around, you could have just asked me."

Macha's response was automatic and without thought. "Kinky, John. Didn't know you were into BDSM."

Macha closed her eyes in self reproach and briefly considered shooting herself in the head. That was flirting. She had just flirted with him after telling they should just be friends. Oh goddammit. She was a hypocrite and a tease.

When she opened her eyes, he had lit a cigarette and had smoke rising out of what was left of his nose. Like the dragons in old fairy tales, the smoke curled from his nostrils, his face lit by the flame of the cigarette; old and dangerous, a creature out of lore. His dark eyes pierced throughout her, weighing her until he finally responded. "I'm surprised you know what that is."

Macha's face darkened and she turned from him and tucked a stray piece of her auburn hair behind her ear. He was taunting her. It was the same thing she had said about the gala and dancing.

"Court got interesting sometimes." She shrugged as she walked back to the station.

She didn't see the twitch of Hancock's lip as he did his best to recall he was upset at her and tried not smile.

* * *

"We are going to flying in that?" Macha could barely contain her excitement as she pointed to the Vertibird. All the dread of hearing Danse say that Elder Maxson was planning on going to war was drowned out by the whirling blades of the aircraft. What would it be like to see the Commonwealth from the sky? She looked at Hancock, hoping to share the thrill with him, but he was too busy holding his tricorn on his head to keep it from flying off in the wind.

Without waiting for an answer to her question, Macha hoisted herself up into the Vertibird. She turned and offered Hancock a hand up, figuring he'd need to help if he was going to hold onto his beloved hat. He hesitated when he saw her outstretched arm, fingers splayed in offering. The seconds ticked by and Macha felt some of her excitement diminish as he stood there. After what seemed like forever, he took the offered hand and joined her in the cabin.

Macha squealed in delight as the Vertibird became airborne and the world below her dwindled. Hands on the grips, she maneuvered the massive Gatling gun around, trying to get a feel for the controls.

"I suggest you aim with care when shooting. We don't want any mishaps with locals." Danse's voice sounded over the intercom.

No shit, Sherlock. She felt like saying, but she kept her mouth shut and just enjoyed the view. It was both tragic and beautiful at once. She could see the skyline of the city stretch on for miles. Skeletons of buildings, weathered and collapsing, rose toward the heavens as if imploring for aide. The water that appeared brown close up, looked blue from this vantage point and sparkled in the sun. The rusting hulls of boats dotted the blue and if she squinted hard enough, she could pretend there was life below like there once was. Cargo ships bursting with goods coming into port. A family on a Sunday cruise on their way to one of the outlying islands for a picnic. A tug boat chugging along towards it's next destination.

Paladin Dense was saying something not dick for once about the view and then quickly changed it into a conversation about battlefields and tactics. And this cleansing he kept referring to sounded rather extreme.

"Must have been nice to be able to get in one of these and jet off wherever you wanted to go. You think that's why they called they drug Jet?" Hancock asked, shouting about the din of the blades.

Macha attempted to speak and promptly ate half her hair as the wind whipped it into her open mouth. Spiting it out, she fought the wind and wrangled it into a bun. She thought she caught a smirk cross Hancock's face as she wrestled with her tresses. Was he laughing at her? Her hair had been in her eyes and she couldn't tell. Hair secured, she finally got to answer. "I always thought it had something to do with the Mile High Club."

"What's the Mile High Club?" He questioned.

Shit. Why had she said that? She had stupidly expected him to know what that was. Of course he didn't know, and that was exactly a topic she did not want to broach with him. "I'll tell you later."

No, she wouldn't. She was just going to hope he forgot and never asked her about it again.

Macha grabbed onto the overhead handle as the Vertibird docked on the Prydwen. The aircraft shook a moment and then stilled. Metal grated as a ramp was lowered before her. Macha beamed as she jumped onto the deck. This was going to be awesome.

* * *

This was dreadful. Almost everyone of the people she had met were militant extremists that boarded on genocidal. Elder Maxson was passionate about his cause, yes, but she saw a bit of maddness in him as well. He gave an eloquent speech, seeming calm and in control for one so young.

Macha had first thought he was incredibly handsome. Rugged and dark haired, the scar across his face only heightened his features instead of detracting from them. _Now here's a man I can get behind_ , she thought. _Or in front of .. or under.. I'm not picky_. But then he started talking and saying how he was going to save humanity from it's worse enemy ..itself. His good looks lost some appeal after that.

Macha didn't see how killing more people and going to war with the Institute would save anyone. It just seemed like more death and destruction where innocent people would die. They were talking about using the Commonwealth, her home, as their battlefield. The very one she was trying to piece back together. One settlement at a time. Good, hard working people that just wanted to live in peace would get caught in the cross hairs of their war.

"I care about them you know. The people of the Commonwealth." Maxson said.

"Care about them?" Macha said incredulously. "You are talking about going to war."

"The Brotherhood is here to prevent a war by starting one of our own."

That made about as much sense as using a Deathclaw as a babysitter. "Yeah. I'm sure the guys that pressed the buttons all those years ago and nuked the fuck outta the world said the same thing."

"Good. You care about this plant. It's time to take responsibility for it. Our war won't reduce the world to ashes. You've already shown great promise. Paladin Danse tells me you are a bit unusual, but he's given his support. I'm naming you Knight within our ranks and a suit of power armor with the title. Wear it with pride."

Well, at least she was getting some spiffy armor, but holy shit she was not okay with this. It reminded her of another 'cleansing' she had read about in history. The Holocaust. Where a deranged man had wanted to wipe out all but some very specific types of people. Hancock was right. They really did want to cleanse the Commonwealth of anything non human, sentient or not.

Macha gave Maxson her most charming smile. They were needed at the moment. She still had to find Shaun. So, she would watch and she would wait, but the second they stepped out of line and messed with her people she was going to take these fuckers down. "Ad victoriam, Elder Maxson."

"Ad victoriam, Knight."

* * *

Macha explored the Prydwen, hoping to find some redeeming factors. So far, she had been met with nothing but failure. In one part of the ship, they had openly dissected a synth. Macha looked at the metal construct lying on the operating table and imagined what would happen if they got their hands on Nick. Nick who had selflessly risked himself to help her locate Shaun by linking with a psycho's mind. Nick who was a better man than most; more human than human at times. It filled her with rage.

Then there were the comments about Hancock. Ever corridor they turned down, someone had to make a racist remark.

"Keep a tight leash on that freak." A guard snarled. "You are putting us all at risk by bringing that creature here."

"Why? He's not contagious. Afraid you may develop a fetish for period clothes and a good fashion sense?" She shot back, her fists balled up. She wanted to punch that guy but knew it would only break her hand and serve no purpose. It's like they were brainwashed. Or all raised to hate anything different. Yes. Some ghouls were evil. But so were some people. Ghoul. Synth, Super mutant. It didn't matter. There was good and bad in all of them.

It weighed on her; each nasty comment a reminder that she had been no different. She had treated him this way too. Maybe not as extreme as these people were, but enough to warrant disgrace.

She could see it bothered Hancock as well. He kept reflexively reaching for his knife and stopping just short of pulling it out. Instead, he just stood there and scowled, his body language daring-hoping almost- that anyone would make a move and do more than just talk shit.

The final straws of her patience were wafting away in the wind and by the time she made her rounds to Knight Captain Cade, she had enough.

"I'm glad you finally stopped by for your exam, soldier. Ready?"

"Sure. Where do I bend over?" Came her snarky reply.

"This isn't that kind of exam." Cade replied, fetching a note pad and pen. "Just a few basic questions. Have you been exposed to large amounts of radiation as a child?

"My dad used to yell at me for sitting to close to the TV."

Cade looked confused and flipped through a few sheets of paper. "Wait? You're a Vault dweller? You are probably the healthiest person here. Sorry I missed that. Let me make a note in your file."

Her file. Like a few pieces of paper could sum her up. They were already cataloging her to make sure she fit into their neat little group of qualifications. With each scratch of the pen, her annoyance grew.

"Have you ever been in contact with anyone with any communicable diseases?"

"Yes. I've been know to get a bad case of dance fever when I hear a good song."

"Dance fever? I've never heard of- oh... you aren't being serious. This must be that-" He flipped more pages. "...morose and macabre sense of humor Paladin Danse commented on."

"Wait, he judged me on my humor? Nuh uh. That's incorrect. Paladin Dense- I mean Danse- does not have a sense of humor and therefore cannot accurately measure one." Macha tried to take the pen and clip board away from him to amend the note. "He meant to put witty and delightful. Make sure to fix that too."

"Well, I'll just mark that as no." Cade said, jerking the clipboard and pen out of her reach and scribbling again. "And lastly. Please answer honestly. Have you ever had sexual relations with any species considered non human?"

Hancock, who was leaning against the far wall snorted at this question. _D_ _on't look at Hancock. Don't look. Just think of something clever to say._ Her mind blanked and she came up with nothing. Nada. "People," She cleared her throat and lowered her voice so he couldn't hear. "People can do that?"

"Why yes. Not anyone we want in our ranks of course. But there have been … cases."

"Cases?" Macha was really curious now. Her eyes flitted to the terminal behind his examination table.

"That's irrelevant. I'm just gonna put down no since it's obvious by your answer you didn't even know that was possible." More note taking. "Last question. Would you have any trouble pulling the trigger on an enemy of the Brotherhood, whether human, formally human or machine?"

That was a tricky question. Despite the Brotherhood's dogma, she wasn't about to go blow someone's head off without a damn good reason. She picked the safest answer she could. "If my life is in danger, I'll do what it takes to protect myself and my friends."

"An acceptable answer." Cade said, putting his pen up. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to get this report to Elder Maxson."

Cade left the room still shuffling through papers. Macha moved the second he left. She cracked her knuckles and attacked the terminal, digging through line after line of code. "Hancock, watch the door and let me know if he's coming back."

"I can do that. What are you looking for? Something to blackmail someone with?"

"Something like that." Her fingers flew across the keys, eyes scanning for the password. There. Got it. The terminal yielded to her hacking and Macha started digging through the personnel files of everyone on the Prydwen.

_Thank goodness they keep such excellent records_ , she thought as she pulled up files. Finally, she hit pay dirt.

**Subject has complained about rash on inner thigh and groin area. Examination revealed radiation laced boils and pustules along genitalia, thighs and buttocks. When lanced, pustules leak irradiated fluid burning the skin further. Symptoms are concurrent with STD from intercourse with a ghoul. Patient has-**

Macha pressed the escape key on the terminal and exited the file. She had seen more than she wanted to. Changing the terminal back to its original settings she put the chair back and passed Hancock on the way out.

"Find anything good?" He asked.

"No." It was the most honest answer she could give.

* * *

"Get that thing off the ship. It's stinking up the place."

Macha ground her teeth. Was it really too much to ask for? Just to be able to walk by one- just one- member of the Brotherhood and NOT have them say something like that.

"That's it." Hancock said. "Time to put an end to this."

He had been more than patient, taking their jibes the entire time he was aboard, but he had apparently reached his limit. Hancock was already reaching for his weapon and Macha saw the Brotherhood soldier click the safety off his minigun. They were gonna kill him. Right in front of her, just mow him down, like he was nothing.. like he was a feral.

"No. No. No." Macha pleaded, stepping in front of John and in between him and the soldier. She grabbed his arm. "Don't do this. Please."

"What's going on here." Paladin Danse clunked into the room. "I thought I told you to keep that thing under control."

"He was just leaving." Macha said, staring Danse down. She had to get him off the ship. This was too volatile. She should have listened to him. These were not good people. If they killed him.. she'd never forgive herself. She had to protect him but she need their tech and their help. This was the only way to get both at the moment.

"Good. The sooner it leaves the better. We have work to do anyways, Knight." Danse ordered.

Hancock took his arm back from her, pulling the sleeve of his coat over the exposed flesh of his wrist. He couldn't keep the disappointment and anger from his voice. "You're going to go with that tin can?"

"Just keep away from me you filthy ghoul. The Knight and I have Brotherhood business to attend that doesn't concern the likes of you."

"Don't flatter yourself crew cut. You ain't my type." Hancock retorted.

"Only for a bit." She tried to reassure him. This felt like rejecting him all over again, and in a way it was, but she knew if he stayed here they would hurt him. "Meet me back at Sanctuary. I'll be there soon. I promise."

His gaze hardened. "Fine by me."

"Make sure it boards a Vertibird and gets off the ship." He ordered one of the guards.

"His name is Hancock" Macha hissed as she watched the guard escort him to the Vertibird that was powering up. She watched as the soldiers loaded Hancock into the aircraft as the blades began to spin, hoping he would look back at her; give her some sign he understood why she was sending him away. Macha followed the Vertibird as it flew off and disappeared into the night. He didn't look back.


	8. Girl Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Diamond City- Power Noodle
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Warnings: Cursing and NSFW conversations and events. Bad musical puns... because I can.

"Nani ni shimasu ka?" Takahashi repeated for the fourth time.

"Not yet. I'm waiting for some friends." Macha explained, also for the fourth time. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to order."

The protectron went back to stirring its noodles as Macha pondered the chefs hat resting on its domed head. _Did it put that there? Or did someone put it on him as a joke?_ Shrugging, she took another sip of her beer.

It was blisteringly hot today, and sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she sat hunch on her bar stool. She shifted, wishing the noodle hut offered more shade from the mid afternoon sun. She had pulled her thick hair up in a knot to get it off her neck and offer some relief, but now her neck was going to be sun burnt. That meant peeling... which reminded her of a ghoul's skin... which made her think of- No. Stop. That train of thought was halting right there. Ding Ding. Final stop. All aboard. She was not to think about that. Not today. That was the whole point of this.

_Where are they?_ She wondered, getting bored.

As if in answer to her question, Piper's voice sounded over her shoulder. "Hey Blue! Nat said you wanted to meet me here? Got some juicy gossip for my next issue?"

Macha smiled in greeting as the sassy reporter took up the stool next to her. "Hi Piper. No, just thought maybe we could meet for dinner. Congratulations on the article, by the way. Nat says the paper is selling better than ever."

"All thanks to you Blue. That interview you gave me was one hell of an exclusive. It sent a message of hope throughout the Commonwealth. I think a lot of people needed to hear what you have to say."

Macha felt a twinge of guilt over that statement. She had been a bit more optimistic in her answers to Piper than she truly felt, but 'you are all fucked' was not the kind of message she wanted to send across the Commonwealth. Especially since she was working so hard to restore some semblance of peace and order. She was about to dismiss Piper's compliment when another voice joined in.

"What the fucks she doin' here?" Cait asked, jerking her head at Piper. "I thought you wanted to meet with me? This better not be some kinda intervention shite."

"Oh come now, Cait. Who would ever want to change your charming personalty?" Piper's comment dripped with sarcasm.

"I wanted to have dinner with both of you. You know, girl talk? Kinda get to know each other better and hang out. Spend time just us girls."

"What could I possibly have to say to her?" Cait gestured at Piper. "Or you for that matter? I ain't used to social calls."

Piper grinned wickedly. "At least not the type that happen in daylight, right?"

"No. No. Ladies, please." Macha interposed. "Surely there's something all three of us can find in common to talk about? Have a nice meal and just relax for a bit."

"Fine, but the second one of you tries to braid my hair or some shite like that, I'm walking." Cait sat down on Macha's left side, effectively sandwiching her between the two of them. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

An ungainly silence stretched out between them as they all tried to think of something to say. Piper cleared her throat and Cait picked at her nails as Macha racked her brain for something to discuss. Shit. This was going downhill fast. She needed to think of something soon or things would get ugly.

"Uhhhhh.. how about a game of marry, kill, fuck." Macha asked, thinking back to her college days. Sex and death were a surefire way to get Cait's attention. And Piper did love gossip. "You name three people and you have to decide you would marry, fuck.. well, its pretty self explanatory."

"You drag me all the way out here for this shite?" Cait shook her head and got up to leave. "With her?"

"Wait..wait wait." Macha motioned for Cait to sit back down. "Andddd.. after every round, we take a shot. I'm buying." Ok. Sex, death and hard liquor. That had to work.

An excited smile flashed across Cait's face as she sat back down. "Now you are talking. Hey, you! Bucket o' bolts. Whiskey."

"Nani ni shimasu ka?" The protectron replied approaching the counter and offered her a bowl of power noodles.

"Bloody fucking hell! WHIS-KEY. Whisssssssssss-keyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy." She addressed the robot as if it was a child that didn't comprehend what she was asking for.

"Here." Macha said, placing the correct about of caps on the bar top. "And three bowls of noodles, please."

"Nani ni shimasu ka?" A bottle of whiskey appeared from under the bar and Takahasi collected his caps as he put it down along with three shot glasses and three steaming bowls of noodles.

"Fuck yeah!" Cait said as she ripped the cork out with her teeth and spit it on the ground. She poured herself a shot and immediately downed it before pouring one for everyone else.

"No, that's ok.. I don't-" Piper said, attempting to refuse the shot.

"Come on, Piper." Cait interrupted, pouring the shot anyways. "You gotta take the stick outta your arse sometimes. Cut loose an' live a little. Maybe then you'll have something worth writin' about in that rag of yours."

Piper 's eyes narrowed as she grasped the shot. "Keep insulting my paper, Cait, and I'll run a story about how the big bad champion of the Combat Zone has a soft spot for kittens."

Cait slammed her fist down on the bar with menace, muscles tense and twitching. "You wouldn't fuckin' dare, you-"

"Okkkkkkkkkkkkk..." Macha interrupted. "Let's get this party started. I'll go first. Ummmm... MacCready, Nick, and Strong."

Cait didn't hesitate and answered around a mouth full of noodles. "Marry Nick, Fuck Strong, Kill MacCready."

"What?!" Piper sounded incredulous. "I understand marring Nick. I would have picked that too, but... sleeping with Strong? I know MacCready can be a sleazeball sometimes, but a super mutant?"

"Have ya' seen how big he is? All those muscles. Can you imagine how big his coc-"

"Whoa...ok." Piper put her hands up in a stop gesture. "I get the picture and am sorry I asked. What about you, Blue?"

Macha finished slurping up a noodle. "Gonna have to agree with you, Piper. Marry Nick, fuck MacCready, kill Strong."

"Bunch of pussies. Drink up ladies!" Cait reminded them downing a shot and then another for good measure.

Macha shuddered as the whiskey burned it's way down her throat. It was strong, liquid turpentine, dissolving her liver and her inhibitions. She noticed Piper made a face, then discreetly tossed the contents of her shot glass into the dirt. Macha guessed after being poisoned one too many times, Piper didn't drink anything not poured by her. Well, there was caps well spent.

"Your turn Piper."

"Alright...Codsworth... Preston, and Trashcan Carla."

"Marry ol Codsy, kill that blaggart Preston and fuck Carla" Cait said once again without hesitation.

Macha wondered if in her head she already had a list of predetermined 'fuckable' candidates. Knowing her, probably. She seemed to hit on anything with two legs.

"What?" Piper asked. "Preston not your type?"

"Fuck no! That goody two shoes is probably a Minuteman on the streets an' in the sheets. I need someone who can hold their liquor and party. Not run back to hide behin' his Mam's skirt the second a strong woman like me wants to fuck. At least Codsy would do me laundry. He does have a spin cycle, right?"

"I think Preston is sweet." Piper exclaimed, defending the Minuteman.

"Boring, s'more like it. I guarantee he even says thank you after he's done." Cait took on a very poor American accent. "It was a privilege and an honor to fuck you madam. That was nice. Perhaps we could do this again sometime, if you are so inclined?"

Macha bit her lip to keep from laughing. She felt a little offended for Preston, but couldn't necessarily dispute Cait's observations. The man had the personality of a doorstop. She couldn't recall when she had seen him emote or react to anything, even the deathclaw emerging from the sewers.

"Piper?"

Piper swished the whiskey around in her shot glass, thinking. "I guess, marry Preston, sleep with Codsworth and kill Carla."

Macha smiled and held up her shot glass in a salute. "Same. Though I'm not quite sure how you would fuck a robot."

"Very carefully." Piper said and they all broke into laughter.

"Shots all around!" Cait hollered as she refilled their shot glasses, spilling more on the counter top than in the glasses.

"I got one. Hancock, Dogmeat and Danse." Cait said, throwing back another shot and already looking buzzed.

Oh. God. Why did she think this was a good idea? She should have had the foresight to predict this was going to happen. She was just so desperate for them to get along and talk to her. This was supposed to be a way to NOT think about him. Things were all weird between them now and she had been obsessing too much about the whole... kissing... misunderstanding. _Misunderstanding? You were flirting with him and you know it._ Her inner voice lectured her. _Teasing him. You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted it._

Not just flirting with him. He had kissed her.. and she liked it. She had kissed a ghoul... and liked it. That had been the true reason she had freaked out. It wasn't even the kiss itself. It was her reaction to it. The unexpected desire that had sprung up. And afterward, when she thought on it, she felt a bit queasy. How could she possibly like it? The man had no fucking nose or skin.

Since she had woken up in the Commonwealth, very few things brought her pleasure. All her usual comforts were gone or tarnished in some way. She could seek no comfort in food, because it all tasted terrible to her. Books were scarce and almost all of them burnt to the point they were illegible. Showers were only if you were lucky enough to get rained on. Music was still present on her Pipboy, but she couldn't get lost in it like she used to for fear of someone sneaking up on her and killing her while she was distracted. Even the bliss of sleep had been robbed from her because of her night terrors. Only the chems had brought her any sense of satisfaction or relief. The rush she got when she was high was one of the few things that made her feel alive in a dead world.

But, then Hancock had kissed her and her body had responded in a way she had not expected. Desire and needed had flooded her body and it took all her will power to not moan in his mouth and wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him into her. It had been..sensual. Tender. Full of want and need for her. It had turned her on in a way she hadn't know was possible. For one second, all the carefully crafted walls and defenses she devised since defrosting came crashing down and she was exposed in a world were exposure meant certain death. It both frightened and exhilarated her. Aroused her and disgusted her all at once.

Macha flashed back to the horrifying terminal entry on the Pyrdwen. Radiation boils and pustules. Ughhhhhh she was going to lose her noodles. _He's a walking corpse, Macha._ Her inner voice chided her. _A zombie. If you want to make out with a corpse, just go dig up Nate's body and-_ Stop! She told herself. She wasn't doing this. Not today.

Piper and Cait looked towards her expectantly and Macha couldn't help feel a little trapped. She licked her lips in anxiety, her fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm on the bar top. "Ummm... that's a tough one. Ummmmmm... I guess if I have to pick. Kill Danse...marry Dogmeat and... ummm.. I guess... fuck Hancock." She could feel the heat rising to her face. Had she really just said that?

"Hmmmm... interesting that you chose to fuck Hancock and not Danse." Cait had a shit eating grin on her face, her cheeks flushed from the booze.

"Well," Macha sputtered turning redder. "I'm certainly not fucking my dog...or killing him for that matter. And you both know I despise Danse."

"What's the matter? The smell of power armor grease and testosterone doesn't do it for you?" Cait asked, chugging another shot.

"Eghh... Not really. The guy never smiles. He's racist as hell. The first time I met him, he's attitude totally turned me off to the Brotherhood of Steel. Always talking about killing ghouls, super mutants, synths...anyone that isn't human. He's arrogant and a fanatic. He actually called Hancock a thing. A thing! When he was standing right next to me. Asshole!"

"Yeah, but that power armor." Cait sighed almost dreamily.

"And that's another thing. I've never seen him out of his power armor. He probably fucks in it. I'd wager he even says 'Ad Victoriam' when he cums. No, the only thing I want to do to that man is strangle him."

"Yeah... but strangle which part of 'em?" Cait said with a lewd smile and suggestive laugh.

"Gross. No thanks. You can Danse if you want to, I'm gonna leave that one behind."

Cait chuckled and took two more shots. Macha tossed her back with less reservation this time. She welcomed the haze the booze brought. Maybe that would shut her rebelling mind up. Hah! Take that brain cells!

"Piper, what about you?" Macha tried to change the subject, or at least get the focus off her.

"Oh no. We are still talking about your choices. Don't try and push this off on me. So.. you and Hancock huh?" Piper asked too casually.

"Me and Hancock...what?" Macha did her best to keep a neutral face.

"Oh come on, Blue. You two have been spending an awful lot of time together. Besides, you get this really moony smile on your face every time you see him. It doesn't take my investigative skills as a reporter to see what's going on."

"I...I spend equal time with all my friends. Like us.. now. Having noodles. Spending time together and doing the whole.. female... bonding thing. And I smile at everyone. See?" She flashed Piper an unconvincing grin that was almost painful to gaze upon. Here she was, an educated women, a lawyer, and one mention of Hancock and she lost all ability to articulate. Fuck, she hated that.

"So, have you... bonded with Hancock yet? Cause, when you do, I want all the details." Cait asked crudely. "I bet he fucks like a champ, that one. I wonder his willy looks like. You think it glows?"

"What?! NO! I mean.. I don't know. Jesus! How would you even? He's a ghoul! It may not even be... well.. there any more. And if it is, it probably looks like a hot dog left in the microwave too long."

Cait gave her knowing grin. "So you HAVE thought about it!"

"I...No... I mean.. yes.. I'm thinking about it now.. because of the game. But only because of the game." Macha stumbled burying her face in her hands.

"Oh good, then you don't mind if I take a stab at him? I wanna see if he can handle me as well as that knife." Cait winked at Macha, who was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to punch the red head in the face.

"Do what ever you want." Macha curtly replied. "So guess your choice is.. what? Marry Danse, fuck Hancock, kill Dogmeat?"

"Shite no! Fuck Danse and Hancock. Preferably at the same time and have the dog watch."

"Ooookkkk." Piper raised a distressed eyebrow. "This is going from journalism to tabloid real fast. Let's change the subject and leave some mystery about this topic. There are some places even I as a reporter won't go."

"Yeah." Cait said. "Like down." She laughed at her own joke and Macha just shrugged at Piper.

"I have a question for you, Blue. What's the thing you miss most about the old world?"

"This better not be a way to weasel more info out of me for another article, Piper."

"What?! No. No. Just making conversation.. that may or may not be quoted in a periodical sometime in the future." She said the last part quickly and quietly, like a disclosure on an old TV advertisement.

"Boring!" Cait chirped, taking Piper's shot and drinking it.

"There's a lot of things." Macha said. "Art for one. Those horrifying paintings done in human blood at Pickman's gallery are the closest thing I've seen to art since I've got here. And while certainly a conversation piece... not quite what I'm looking to hang in my living room."

She thought a moment before continuing. "The color green. Everything here is muted, like looking at the world through this brown glass. Even the plants." She tapped her finger on the russet whiskey bottle. "All sepia, ocher, and shit brown."

"That's cause it IS shite." Cait clarified.

Macha ignored her. "Live music and dancing under the strung lights of Cafe Bella Luna. A decent meal made with rad free ingredients. Everything here tastes like dirt or has a strange metallic twang to it. Like food that is just about to spoil."

"Nani ni shimasu ka?" Takahashi protested, senors flashing towards her as he wiped down the counter.

At least, she thought that's what he was doing. Macha amended her statement. "Everything except these delicious noodles...mmmmmmm. Yum!" She made a big show of slurping some down. Yup. Dirt and metal. Tasty.

The robot seemed to accept this and went about his cleaning, leaving Macha to her thoughts. There were so many little things she had taken for granted. Ice cream on a hot day like this. Going to the beach and feeling the sand between her toes without having to worry about rads or a mirelurk attacking her. Reading a book in bed. Sipping a cup of coffee on a cold day and savoring the radiant heat from the cup as it warmed her hands. In door plumbing.

"And let's not forget toilet paper."

"Toilet paper?" Both Cait and Piper looked confused.

"Toilet paper. I'm talking the soft, ass caressing plush brand that left you feeling like you were a queen when you left that porcelain throne. The ones with the quilting. It was like cleaning yourself with a cloud."

"Sounds nice." Cait mused after draining the last of her noodle bowl and just drinking the rest of the whiskey straight from the bottle. "And here I've been using her newspaper to wipe my arse. It's no wonder my cheeks are chapped. Like tryin' to clean shite up with more shite."

"That's it!" Piper exclaimed. "This just in. Combat Zone Champion Covets Cuddles with Kittens! Read all about it tomorrow's edition!"

Macha sighed as the two began arguing with each other; her stuck in the middle of things, as always it seemed.

"Takahashi, another bottle of whiskey please. We are gonna need it."

* * *

Macha staggered and the key scrapped across the metal, producing a terrible screeching noise.

"Fuckin... stand... stamd ..s-still. Fuckin door."

The lights of Diamond City were glaring to Macha's eyes as she tried to open the door to Home Plate, drunk and exhausted. Piper had left a few hours ago, leaving her and Cait to finish of the remainder of the whiskey. Then Cait had dared her to run the bases naked -which at the time seemed like inspired idea- and the rest of the night had dissolved into chaos. She normally tried to keep her drinking and chem use from the public but tonight had gotten a bit outta hand. She didn't want to tarnish the imagery of the Minutemen and her last coherent thought of the night was layered with hope that Piper would keep this little escapade out of Publick Occurrences. Then she thought about how Publick with a space between the words became real close to Pube Lick and she and Cait had declined into a drunken state of hysteria. So, here she was, staggering home sans a shoe and most of her wits.

Macha was glad she had decided to invest in real estate her in Diamond City. Being this drunk and passing out in the Dugout Inn was not a good way to keep things under the radar. She had made the choice on impulse two weeks ago and had stayed here ever since. She told herself it was because the place was nice and safe and no one would bother her. __Especially not Hancock, because ghouls aren't allowed in Diamond City and you just want to avoid him. Right Macha? Because you can't deal with what happened. You can't handle how you feel about-__

"You s-shut your filthy mouth!" She yelled at no one. A passing Diamond city guard gave her a once over as she stumbled away from her door and backed into her power armor sitting neatly on the stand, then carried on with his patrol.

"Hey ..Heyyyyyy... buddy? H-Help me out heres." She addressed the looming doorman that guarded her residence. Wait? She didn't have a doorman…did she? She blinked rapidly and the blurry figure focused into the familiar shape of her power armor.

"Ohhhhh..It's youse." She drunkenly gaffed, patting the armor like an old friend, trying again to get her key in the door.

This time she was successful and the door swung wide, banging against the brick wall.

"Honey, I'm h-home!" Her voice echoed throughout the sparsely decorated dwelling. She didn't know what she was expecting. There was no one here. No one waiting for her. Belching, she had enough sense to close and lock the door behind her before tossing her key on the coffee table.

She snickered with amusement at a random thought. Coffee table. She had a coffee table.. but no coffee. What's the deal with that? She cursed when she bashed her shin on the end of said table while trying to shed clothes and navigate the stairs to the upper bedroom. She got tangled up in her shirt half way up the staircase and almost her balance deciding that crawling up the remaining stairs would have to do.

She managed to kick her lone shoe off and fell heavily on her bed clad in her bra and underwear, groaning. Her head already hurt and she wasn't even hung over yet. Macha stretched and failed to reach the bedside table that contained a new stash of chems she had crafted. Growling in frustration, she shimmied across the mattress and used her fingertips to pull the drawer out of the dresser and dump the contents onto the floor. She shifted through stack of chems unable to decide what she wanted until a little voice piped up. __Hancock likes mentats__ _._ She frowned at herself for thinking of him, but settled on a pack of orange mentats anyways. Rolling over and staring at the lazily revolving ceiling fan, she popped a handful into her mouth and swallowed, watching the fan blades spin.

Squeak. Squeak. The fan blades cycled over head as the mentats sharpened her senses. She was hyper aware of her breathing. Her ears picked up each breath in time with the soft rush of the fan blades slicing through the air. She could hear Percy outside hawking his wares if she concentrated hard enough.

She moaned and stretched out, the drug making everything feel intoxicating. The air on her skin tickled the tiny hairs across her body, sending shivers of delight down her spine. The sheets enveloped her, folding her in luxuriousness smooth like a river of silky chocolate. She ran her hands over her body, delighting in the pleasure her own touched invoked. Electricity arched from her finger tips, awakening her body and the need within. It had been so long. So very long.

Macha closed her eyes and touched her breasts, circling her nipples as they hardened into sensitive peaks.

Her other hand snaked down, slipping below the confines of her underwear, to tease and torment her clit. She hissed as her body responded to the drugs, making her caresses feel amazing on her hypersensitive pink mound. She was dripping, and she could smell her own sex as her fingers explored her folds. She just needed a good fantasy to add some ambiance.

She thought about Nate and that one moonlit night on the beach. The moon had been enormous and hung in the sky like a circle of mercury glass, casting it's light across the shifting white dunes. There, among the waves and the stars, they had created Shaun. She immediately pushed the thought away, her heart swelling with grief and bitterness. No. That wouldn't work.

She was tired of feeling guilty. She wanted.. needed to feel alive. Something. Anything besides this numbness that seeped into her body and leeched the life out of her. Like the drift wood on the beach. Weathered down to a husk and bleached of all color. It was time to move on.

OK. How about Preston? She supposed he was handsome enough. Strong jaw, nice cheek bones. Semi decent body honed by hours of fighting and walking. Sweet guy. Honorable. Nice ass. Yeah. That could work. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize his toned arms bracing himself over her as he thrust inside her. Oh. That was nice. Then Cait's words popped into her mind and Preston came, said thank you and gave her a peck on her forehead. Ughhhh.. no.

MacCready? Not really her type. He could be cute, but he enjoyed ripping people off which was not exactly a turn on for her, but here goes. She thought of his goatee brushing against her breast as he took one taunt nipple in his mouth. Ummm .. ok. He had his hands on her hips as she straddled him and he guided himself inside her. Then she recalled he was sorta sleazy and imaginary MacCready looked at her and said, "Yeah baby. Tunnel snakes rule."

And that killed it. Macha groaned in frustration. Why couldn't she do this? He was just as lecherous as Hancock, though John had a certain charisma and bravado that made him likable. And holy shit.. she was thinking about him again!

No! I got this. There's gotta be someone else. Strong? She thought desperately. _Okkkkkk_. Her mind said. _You sure you wanna do this Macha?_ Yeah. Let's do it. _Ok._ He was taking her doggy style, one massive hand encompassing her entire waist as his pulsing green member rubbed her slit. Jesus, he was big. Too big! Like a minigun as his head pushed against her lips and forcing her body to accommodate his huge girth.

"Oh goddammit!" Macha recoiled as her chem influence mind informed that he was now in her uterus and she was dead. She made a fist with her unoccupied hand and hit the mattress with defeat.

"Fine! I give up. You win! Just do what we both know you want to do." Her brain needed no further prompting. It had been there, lingering in the back of her mind since they kissed. Like a feral, it sprang, taking over her senses and body.

Hancock was kissing her, except this time she kissed him back, her arms pulling him in. His mouth was smooth and cool, high contrast to his hot tongue that expertly encircled hers, tugging at her own and making her moan.

He pushed her against the red brick wall of the gas station, pinning her hands above her head as his mouth traveled lower. Down her neck and collar bone he trailed small nips and kisses, his throaty growl vibrating in her ears. It was a primal sound and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her body tingle. He only said one word between gasps, but it was what she wanted to hear.

"Inside."

Still kissing, unable to take their hands off each other, John guided her into the remains of the abandoned Red Rocket station. She bumped against a counter top and swept her hand across the top to clear it of anything in her way. Papers and a coffee cup or two went flying as he hoisted her on top of the counter, each desperate for each other, grasping and undoing clasps, zippers, and any other obstacle in the way of their bodies touching.

Hancock went to toss his hat aside but Macha stopped him. "No. Leave it on." She panted in excitement.

He flashed her that cocky grin and pulled her hips toward him as he tugged her pants down around her ankles. With another grin he produced his knife and slipped the sharp edge under the hem of her panties at her hip. He never took his eyes from her as he deftly cut the fabric, causing her underwear to fall to the side, exposing her most intimate parts to him.

Macha groaned in both real life and her fantasy as John's imaginary textured fingers ran their length up and down her sex. His mouth sought hers again, hungry and needing as her body succumbed to his touch. He dipped her fingers into her warmth, seeming to know just how to make her quake. He brought her tantalizingly close to the edge and then pulled back.

She heard him reach for his pants and the fabric rustle and she closed her eyes and buried her head in his neck. She didn't dare look as she felt his hard length glide against her. She shuddered, not sure if it was in revulsion or anticipation or a strange combination of both as he plunged inside her.

"Fuck." It was a whispered prayer as they began to move together; his hand on the small of her back holding her to him. She made a keening cry as he picked up the pace, sliding effortlessly into her wetness, hitting her G-spot with every thrust. Face still buried in his neck, she squirmed as his fingers sought her clit again, working in time with his thrusts to bring her closer and closer to completion.

"Macha." Her growled her name in her hair. Her legs were shaking. She was trying to both get away and get closer to him all at once. She was close. So close. With one final thrust, he drove her over the edge.

Macha's toes curled as she came hard and cried out. Panting, she opened her eyes and watched the ceiling fan go round and round. She was once again in her bed at Home Plate. Alone. Just like she had wanted. Her body was relaxed, spent; her fingers pruney and slick with her own juices. Macha rolled over and caressed the other side of the bed for a moment. The side where another body could have fit, inviting and snuggled against hers. She stared at the space a moment and then curled around her pillow and was lost to sleep.

* * *

Macha spooned another mouthful of Sugarbombs into her mouth. The cloying sweetness of the stale breakfast cereal was taken down a notch by the buttermilk flavor of Brahmin milk. It was disgustingly delicious, just like she found most of the food stuff in the Commonwealth. She sat at her bar, thoughtfully chewing despite her hang over. She had woken up this morning and dedicated a good deal of energy to just thinking. Thinking about Hancock instead of running and hiding from it.

She had changed so much since waking. Learned to kill, to fight for survival, to live in the moment. She had lost pieces of herself to the cruelty of the world and sometimes she hated what she had become. Still, despite all she did, she tried not to judge, tried to be a good person. But survival was an ugly thing, and the truth was sometimes uglier.

At first she had thought her initial response was just a reaction to the lack of psychical contact. People in the Commonwealth had a tendency not to touch one another. Handshakes, pats on the back, a friendly hug were all sparse. These things involved trust and that was something lacking in humanity for a long while. Trust meant weakness. Weakness meant death. And it had been such a long time since anyone had touched her, even in a passing friendly manner. She had gone from being held every night to being alone. It was devastating to go from be safe, loved and comfortable from one moment, to waking up and having all that ripped away.

_I'm lonely._ Macha had realized. She was the General of the Minutemen, surrounded by her soldiers that would follow her orders. She had people that would die for her, settlers that respected her and companions that would follow her to hell and back.. and she was alone. She wanted –needed- someone to hold her in the dark of the night and tell her that everything was going to be OK, even if it wasn't. Someone where she could just be Macha. Not the General, not the Vault 111 survivor. Just Macha. And she could be just Macha with John. Old Macha, New Macha, it hadn't mattered to him. He accepted her in ways that she could not do for him. And it shamed her.

_I want him_. She finally admitted. _I want him but I find him repulsive in a way._ _I wish I could say I was a better person and look past everything, but I can't. He's a_ _dead man_ _. Even in my imagination, I can't look at him._

She remember her fantasy last night. The thoughts that made her cry out in the night. Thought of him and her together. She could no longer deny the attraction. It had been there all along. She was the one sending mixed signals. A touch here, a peck there. Just small nuances that betrayed her affection for him. She had lied to herself and said they were harmless. That neither one of them could possibly think of each other as anything more than companions. She was a human, he was a ghoul and those were the facts.

It hadn't mattered as friends. They could laugh and cavort and have a good time. Highs fives when she landed a sweet shot. Playful punches in the arm when he was being a smartass. The occasional brush of fingers or huddling together by campfire at night hadn't mattered. His skin had actually kinda fascinated her, reminding her of the texture of dried wonderglue or melted plastic. But the second his mouth had touched hers and awakened her attraction, it changed.

Suddenly, the fact he was a ghoul had substance. His noseless face, the reality that he would live hundreds of years, that he could turn feral, the scars and ruin of his body. The possibility of STDs like she read on the terminal. Old Macha would have said that was fine. It wasn't important. She would make do and claim that beauty was from within and all that tripe. Old Macha would have lied to herself. New Macha knew that was bullshit. The wasteland was brutally honest in that way. It forced you to reexamine all the things you thought you knew about yourself and sometimes you found out you weren't as pure and benevolent as you thought you were.

It mattered to her, even bothered her. The fact he was a ghoul; that he had knowingly done that to himself. Her attraction to him felt both right and wrong. Part of her felt deranged for even thinking about it. Like she was sick or this was just another way for her to be self destructive. But... he had been there for her when no one else had. He had asked nothing of her, but her company. She had fun with him, trusted him to protect her out in the Commonwealth. He always had her back …..and she had humiliated and rejected him because she didn't know how to deal with the fact he was a ghoul. It wasn't his problem, he was at peace with being what he was. It was her issue, and she had taken it out on him. Treated him like shit. Didn't she owe it to him.. to at least try? Or was that even more of an insult? The fact she had to force herself to try.

_What do you do when you want to kiss someone, but the thought makes you both excited and throw up in your mouth a little?_ _What am I supposed to do? Say I'm sorry but you freak me out? The thought of being with you makes me feel both depraved and aroused? Hope that eventually, I'll just get used to it?_

She didn't have the answers to those questions. She suspected even more questions be unearthed before she could even answer those. All she knew was she had fucked up and hurt the person who had always been there for her. And now things weren't right between them. She had sent him away and been avoiding him.

Macha drained the rest of the milk from her bowl and wiped away the mustache it left behind. After checking over her weapon and ammo, she stepped out of Home Plate and secured the door. After all the changes she had done, there was still more to come. She was still thinking in the past. Still waiting for things to normalize or trying to get a piece of her old life back so she could feel normal. There was nothing ordinary about this world. Deathclaws, synths, ghouls... these were commonplace... she was the freak. Hancock was a ghoul. Nothing she or he could do would change that.

She stopped and looked towards the morning sun. It was going to be another hot day. She was in the process of tying her hair up when the barber began hawking.

"Got too much dirt in that hair? Get a trim! You wont regret it."

"Hey John." Her heart lurched at little at the name. "Take some of this off, will you? Getting too hot."

"Sure thing ma'am. Just take a seat. What did you have in mind?"

"Surprise me."

Caps were exchanged and she sat down and watched snippets of her long wavy hair fell to the ground. The she heard the tell tale sound of clippers and felt the pressure as they were run over the back of her head. It seemed silly to worry about hair when there were so many other pressing matters, but it was a part of her identity. She had worn her hair like that since college, had met and married Nate without changing it much over the years. She felt a brief flash of panic as more and more hair piled up on the floor, like he was shearing away memories. But, that was the thing about change. Yes, it could be alarming, but that didn't mean it was always bad. Sometimes, it was needed.

"Snip. Snip. And bam, you're beautiful."

He held up a mirror and Macha was taken aback. He had left the top part of her hair long and pulled it back into a neat pony tail. Everything underneath was shaved down into a gradual fade that tapered off at the back of her neck. It was sleek, a hell of a lot cooler, and somehow looked both feminine and bad ass at the same time. She loved it.

Macha thanked the barber and gave him back his mirror. Brushing the last bits of hair from her shoulders, and made for the gate.

A Diamond City guard whistled appreciatively as she passed by.

"Hey toots," he catcalled. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

Steel in her gray eyes, Macha replied to with a grin. "To make things right."


	9. Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Sanctuary
> 
> Spoilers: None
> 
> Warning: Cursing
> 
> Listening: Radioactive- Imagine Dragons Pentatonix version

_OK. Almost there. Ready? Yeah, I can do this. I got this._ Macha pumped herself as she approached the bridge leading to Sanctuary. Her dirt caked boots hit the first board on the bridge and it creaked and groaned under her weight. She went over her carefully rehearsed speech again, picking over all the details. She had mapped out every scenario she could think of and had a viable argument and logical reason for everything. Piece of cake. She had stood before juries, judges and her fellow lawyers and delivered speeches and arguments fluidly and with confidence. This would be no different, right?

The butterflies in her stomach gave her pause and she wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. She saw the gate looming on the horizon, closer with each weighted step. The turrets set high on the junk wall clicked and whirled as they targeted her and tracked her movement. The empty gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach had returned and she felt her nerves begin to fray with each footfall.

She scowled in annoyance. No one was at the gate and she had told Jun to make sure it was manned at all times. The fences they had put up only allowed one entrance and exit to town; better control against breaches and funnel any threats across the bridge and into the path of the turrets. Macha made a mental note to talk to him while she was here. For fuck's sake, they couldn't keep calling her back here every time a wannabe raider with a pipe pistol fired a few shots at the walls.

The sheets of rusty metal, tires and chain link that comprised the entryway were at least bolted shut. Macha raised a hesitant hand to knock and stopped just short of rapping on weathered metal. Her hand was shaking, the tremors visible and violent. Shit. Fucking nerves. Well, she had a way to fix that. Detouring from the gate, she leaned against a blind spot against the towering wall. Taking a cursory glance around to make sure the cost was clear, Macha withdrew a syringe of psychobuff from her back and plunged the needle into her thigh.

The relief and high was instant, stilling her tremors and calming her nerves. Yeah that was much better, she sighed in reprieve. Her body slumped for a second against the wall as she savored the light heady feeling of euphoria that always came with the chems. It was like flying in the Vertibird again; the world diminishing around her and she was soaring untouchable through the sky. Something tickled her nose, and she absently wiped at it. Her high was interrupted when the back of her hand came away smeared bright red.

Frowning, she touched her nose again, only to have it dotted with more blood. It was starting to drip on her pant leg now, in a steady flow. Shit. Nose bleed. _Must be from the few swipes that Yao Guai got in before I killed_ _it_ she deduced. The mutated bear's paw had knocked her helmet off with it's powerful blows and sent her head reeling when it surprised her on the way back to Sanctuary. She had emerged the victor, but had more than a few lesions and bruises from the encounter.

Macha slid down to the riverbank and used the water to cleanse her face and hands and then tilted her head back, holding her nose. She gagged a bit as the coppery taste of blood slid down the back of her throat. Nose still pinched in her fingers, she dug out a stimpak and injected it into her other thigh. After waiting a moment, she released her nose only to have more blood run down her chin. _Fuck! That damn Yao Guai must have hit me harder than I thought_. Macha scrambled to control the torrent of blood and inject another stimpak. It took two more before the bleeding finally subsided.

Sniffing experimentally, Macha cleaned herself up as best she could. The last thing she needed to do is show up for her little talk with Hancock covered in blood. Well, more blood than normal. She did kinda want to look nice. _I think I saw an intact mirror in one of the houses down the street. Maybe I can make it there and do a spot check before I see him?_ Washing her hands a final time she stood and knocked on the door.

It seemed like forever before a head popped up over the barricade. Jun's helmet was lopsided on his head, a few sizes to big for him. He didn't appear very threatening, fumbling with his weapon as he tried not to lose his helmet. Macha sighed internally. She probably should reappoint his wife, Marcy, as the gate guard. At least that woman could take her bitchiness on some raiders instead of always making resentful passive aggressive comments to her all the time. Macha mostly let them slide though. She knew first hand how hard it could be to loose everything all at once. Maybe mowing down some raiders or muties would help Marcy deal with her anger.

"H-halt! Who goes there?" Jesus. He sounded scared shitless. Yeah. She was going to have to have Marcy patrol. Maybe Jun would be better suited in the fields.

"It's just me Jun." Macha shielded her eyes from the sun, and peered up the guard tower.

"Oh, General!" He sounded relieved. "Let me get the gate for you."

Screech. The gate screamed as it was dragged open, just wide enough for her to slip through.

"How's things going here, Jun?" Macha asked as the man resealed the entrance.

"Good. You know, as best it can. General. Ma'am." He gave her a sloppy salute and Macha waived it off. "Some new settlers came in, so the bed situation is getting kinda tight, but crops are doing well. Mr. Valentine helped Sturges fix the generator when it went on the fritz last week. And your... other friend helped us with a raider attack a few days ago."

"Good. Good. I'll see to the bed situation as soon as I can. I'm going to have Marcy take up post at the gate, so stand watch until she relieves you. When's the last time Carla came out here?"

"Just left about a week ago, ma'am.. I mean. General." Jun stammered. "She's been making regular trips at least once a month."

"Excellent. I need to attend some business in town first, but will call an assembly before night fall. It's time we set up some supply lines with the other colonies. Um... where is .. my other friend?"

"Mr. Hancock? Oh. He's been staying in the old yellow house towards the end of the path. The one marked Hawthorne on the mailbox. Don't see him much during the day though."

Macha nodded. That was the house where she had found the chemistry station before she moved it up closer to her residence. It seemed appropriate that he would camp out there, though it didn't bode well that he hadn't stayed at her place. Worry and doubt began to creep back in her mind. Had he just not wanted to think about her at all, and that's why he wasn't staying at her place? He had a key and his own room and her place had as many comforts as one could get out here.

"Thanks Jun. I'll see you at the assembly." She was already walking away as he stammered out his goodbyes.

Skirting around the edge of town, she came to the abandoned Whitfield house and ducked under a fallen beam into the exposed living room. Glass and paper crunched under foot as she navigated the ruined house and found the bathroom.

"Shit!" Macha cursed as she slipped on a loose subway tile and nearly did a split. Recovering, she went to the crooked sink and closed the medicine cabinet that was hanging open. The mirror was shattered and many spider web like cracks radiated out from the center. Macha examined herself in the poor light. _God, I look like shit._ There were a few scabs of dried blood under her nose, nothing too bad. Her cheeks were gaunt and she had dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Her lip bottom had been split open from the Yao Guai's claws and was still swollen.

Macha depressed the plunger in the sink and poured two cartons of water into the closed basin. Taking her freshly cut hair out of her pony tail, she began the awkward process of washing the dirt and grime out as best she could bent over the sink. Once done, she used an old dish rag to clean her neck and face, and pulled her wet hair back in a pony tail.

She shrugged at her reflection. It was the best she could do to make herself presentable. N _ot sure why I'm bothering with this_ , she thought. I _'m the one judging on appearances, not him._

She closed her eyes against the rush of guilt, fear, and frustration that welled up inside her. Macha leaned on the sink and forced her breathing to even out. She didn't know what she was going to do if he didn't take her apology but she knew it would change something in her, irrevocably. And that change would not be for the best; just another part of her that would be claimed by this world.

I have to try and make this right. I just hope he forgives me. Macha looked up at her reflection and not liking what she saw, slammed the cabinet door open. The cracked mirror fell from the frame and crunched under foot as she went to find him.

* * *

"Shit." John muttered as he checked his pack of cigarettes. He was out. He sat forward in his chair and rummaged through the dirty ashtray seeking one that hadn't burnt down to the filter. There were numerous butts piled high in the ashtray, evidence of his recent chain smoking.

"Ah. Where have you been hiding?" He fished one out that still had a few centimeters left before it hit filter and set it alight.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the sweet smoke filled his lungs. "That's the ticket."

Dogmeat gazed up at him from his place by his feet and whined at him. His large brown eyes seemed to be judging him as the canine tilted his head to the left and right, ears perked.

"What? It's not like I'm gonna get cancer." John told the dog. Fuck. He was losing it. Sitting here, high as he could be and talking to her damn dog. The thought of Macha brought a fresh blossom of pain to his chest. It had been weeks since she had sent him away to go play soldier with the Brotherhood. He had heard nothing from her since then. Fuck. For all he knew she could be dead somewhere in a ditch and he would never know.

_Or maybe she's just forgotten about you._ The voice was back, no matter how many times he tried to drink it to oblivion. It always came back. This was not the first time he had hashed out this argument. As the days became a week and then weeks, his mind had devised all kinds of scenarios to torment him. She was dead, ripped apart by ferals. She had excelled in the Brotherhood and was hunting down his fellow ghouls as he sat here on his ass, waiting for her. She was avoiding him because of what happened with their brief kiss and would continue to do so. But the worst one was the thoughts of her and Paladin Danse... together. That she was happy with that asshole putting his clumsy hands on her and-

"Bark!" Dogmeat rapidly rose to his feet, tail wagging furiously in excitement. "Bark! Bark!"

The dog was practically dancing, his paws prancing as he turned in circles and barked, then took off down the road to greet someone coming his way. John adjusted his hat and squinted at the figure. The sun was in his eyes and all he could see was their silhouette.

"Goddammit." He growled. It was probably another settler coming to ask for his help at some random rural task. Last time it was herding that brainless Brahmin into it's pen after it had escaped. He was still scrapping cow shit off his boots and was not nearly drunk or high enough to deal with that again.

Her voice hit him like a blow to the chest, causing him to further inhale the smoke and cough a bit.

"Dogmeat!" Macha cooed. "How's my good boy? Have you been protecting the settlement? You are such a good dog!"

The canine jumped around her, tail circling like the blades of the Vertibird, woofing with joy. Hancock watched with something akin to disbelief as she dropped to one knee and wrestled with Dogmeat a bit.

He took the opportunity to composed himself. Straightened his hat and sash, tossed the contents of the ashtray into a nearby bush, kicked some of the empty beer bottles under the patio table and reclined in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. Yeah. He was calm cool and collected. Her absence had in no way effected his life.

Macha approached him, dog still bounding around her. _She cut her hair._ That was the first thought that came to his mind. The second was how damn good it made him feel to see her smile. She was smiling... at him. Like she was just as happy to see him as he was her.

"Hey." She smiled, then looked down at her feet, fidgeting a bit. Was she... blushing?

"Hey."

"I...I heard you help keep the settlement safe from raiders. Thank you for that."

"Yeah. No problem."

He took a drag of his cigarette and cleared his throat. "So where's the walking tin can?"

"Danse? Oh, I um... left him guarding Oberland Station. They have been having problems with super mutants lately. It it would be the best use of his skills. I...need to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" He reclined back further, hoping she couldn't hear the hammering of his heart. "Something weighing on you?"

Macha self consciously hugged her arms to her body. All her carefully prepared speeches and arguments flew out of her mind the second she saw him. She couldn't recall anything that she was supposed to say or had wanted to say, so she just blurted out the first things that came to her mind. "I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch. I reacted... poorly to what happened between us. And you deserve better. You've always had my back. You are the one person I can truly depend on in an untrustworthy world. I don't know what this is between us, but I think I see you as more than a friend. And I really don't know how to deal with that."

_More than friends?_ John could hardly believe what he was hearing from what was left of his ears. Part of him wanted to tell her she was too late to come to this realization. That she had run out on him. Left him waiting, not knowing if he would ever see her again. Part of him was still angry and hurt. But the other part... he had run out on people all his life so he knew why she had done it. Hell, she was probably the only thing he hadn't run from. Despite their disagreement about the Brotherhood he had still been with her when he would have normally walked. She actually had to send him away.

It took real guts to come back here and admit she was wrong. And, he didn't really want her to go away. She was like the sunshine. The one bright spot in the blackness and haze of his life. The one thing he could never run from because she was a part of him.

"Yeah, but that's a given when you got me around. I don't mean no harm by it. And I don't want it to effect what we got." He was going play it cool. See where she went with it.

"John, it's already effecting what we got. I don't know if I can go back to being just friends with you." She paused then, and looked him square in the face. "Frankly, I don't want to be just friends. I...I've been such an idiot. I fucked everything up. What I'm trying to say is... I miss you. I …..care about you. If you can forgive me.. I'd like to try.. and give us a chance. If you are still interested, that is."

He should say no... or make her wait like she made him. He should tell her to go to hell. Or that she had missed her chance. There were plenty of other women that wanted him with no strings attached. All these thoughts flew through his mind, but the heart wants what the heart wants. He couldn't bring himself to say those unkind words, no matter how wounded he was. He still couldn't believe this was real. She was joking again. She couldn't really want him. Could she?

"Is it that obvious? But come on. You don't want to wake up to this ugly mug every morning. Never wished that on anyone I cared about." He tried to discourage her. Both of their lives would be simpler, easier if they didn't have this conversation. He could just go back to Goodneighbor and do his mayoral duties and try his best to forget her.

Macha shook her head fiercely. "You are just the way I like. If I learned anything in my time with the Brotherhood, it's I don't care about what anyone else thinks when it comes to you. I need you, John."

For a second, Hancock lost his faculties. To hear her say it, so plain and simple, like it was the purest truth in the world. All his pain fell away and he thought for once, it wouldn't be the chems that stopped his heart, but how much he loved her.

He stared at the cigarette that was little more than a stub between his fingers. He had done such shitty stuff in his life, how could he ever deserve this? Even a chance? It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He fully understood why she had run then. Who ever said tis better to have loved and lost than never loved at all didn't know jack shit about love. Entwining your life with someone that completely, making them your whole universe, always came with the risk of that world shattering.

"You know, it's moments like this I know all that karma stuff is bullshit. There's not enough good in the world I could ever do to deserve someone like you."

Macha chuckled lightly. "You say that now, but give it a week or two and you will think karma's giving you the exact hell you deserve. I'm not perfect and we are bound to disagree on things."

Hancock leered at her. "Well, that just means lots of make up sex to look forward to, doesn't it?"

Macha turned bright red and fidgeted. She was adorable when she was like that. It made him want to bend her over this patio table right now and give her something to be embarrassed about.

"I haven't been with or dated anyone since Nate." She was rambling now, shy and nervous. "This is all…new to me.. In many different ways. I guess what I'm saying is, just..please be patient with me and let's take things slow."

He blew a final smoke ring and extinguished the remains his cigarette. She had put him through hell and as far as he was concerned, she owed him. It was time to deal out just a little revenge. He rose slowly putting on his most alluring smile as he approached her.

"Oh. I can do slow. I can do real slow." He purred seductively, leaning in to her. He raised his hand toward her face and closed the distance between them.

Macha gulped. This was it. He was going to kiss her. His fingers brushed her temple, following her hair line and traced behind her ear. Macha shivered and tilted her chin up. She closed her eyes and held her breath, lips slightly pursed as she braced herself for it. She could do this. It was him. It wouldn't be so bad. Don't think about the nose thing. She liked him for his personality, not his looks, though he was kinda handsome in an odd way. She told herself these things over and over waiting for his lipless mouth to press against hers. And waited and waited. _Ummm.. What's going on?_ Macha wondered. Her eyes flickered open to find he hadn't moved. He was still there, inches from her face, with a huge cocky grin, his eyes sparkling with humor.

"I like your hair." He said, pulling one finger through her pony tail and letting his hand drop away. Still wearing that smug sacrosanct smile he stepped back from her, looking at her expectantly. "What? Did the chems just kick in or something?"

Macha blinked in confusion. Scarlet flamed in her cheeks and she felt foolish and a bit hurt. She was just standing her like an idiot. Was he rejecting her offer? What had just happened? She was so sure that he was going to kiss her. Instead he had just left her hanging there.. and.. oh. Touché.

Hancock started laughing and Macha wondered what her face revealed to him. _Oh that over confident sanctimonious son of a bitch! He did this on purpose so I would know what I put him through._

"Fuck you!" she hissed without much conviction.

"I thought you wanted to take it slow?" He gaffed, trying to sound innocent. Macha punched him in the arm. "Ow! Don't make me go feral on you!"

He playfully fended her off as she shouted at him and took another swing. And just like that, the world righted itself. Macha had her best friend back and a little something more.


	10. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Goodneighbor
> 
> Spoilers: minor silver shroud
> 
> Status: Romanced
> 
> Side note: This actually does happen in game if you hang out in the Third Rail Bar long enough. I had to reload my save. Turns out being jealous and having an itchy trigger finger doesn't mix well.
> 
> Warning: cursing

"Ah… Good to be home." Hancock exclaimed as they walked through Goodneighbor's entrance. The gates slammed shut behind them and Macha was greeted with the familiar sight of Daisy and Kleo's shops under the lambent neon lights.

Oh thank fucking god. Her back was killing her from all the junk she was hauling around. It was time to unload some of this trash and cash in for caps. She shrugged her pack from her shoulders and swore it made the ground shake like when she landed while wearing power armor.

"Ughhhhhh," She groaned while stretching. "I miss cars. I am sorely tempted to jack a Vertibird from the Brotherhood and use it for supply runs."

"Now that would be a good reason to go back there." Hancock replied. "Why haven't we done that?"

"Because neither one of us knows how to fly. Unless you've been holding out on me?"

Hancock chuckled. "That kinda high ain't my specialty, love."

Macha rolled her eyes. "Alright. I'm going to sell some of this stuff to Daisy and Kleo. Got anything you want to unload?"

He was already lighting a cigarette, comfortable and back in his natural element; the mayor of Goodneighbor had returned. "Yeah. Check the stash."

He dug through his coat and handed her various baubles, ammo, and junk. "Gonna talk to Fahrenheit and see how the town's doing in my leave of absence. Attend my mayorial duties while I'm here and make sure no one gets any ideas about replacing me."

She smirked at him. "No one can replace you and you know it."

"See, this is why I adore you." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "You are the one person talkin' sense in a world of crazy. Now, come here. You don't think you can get away without a kiss goodbye, do you?"

Macha felt the heat rise to her face. They had passed the kissing milestone a several days back, and she had to admit, he was good. Real good. So superior that she totally got lost in his embrace and forgot he was even a ghoul. He could probably tie a cherry stem into a fucking swan if he wanted to with his gifted tongue. But those were private moments, stolen as their guns cooled and the blood congealed around them and all their enemies lay wasted. Or at night when they camped out in an abandoned car or dilapidated building watching the stars.

"Here?" She whispered, unsure. "But there are people watching."

Sure enough, the occasional drifter shuffled by, head turning in curiosity to glace at their mayor embroiled with an auburn haired woman. A few more were leaning against the walls, smoking or quietly conversing. Daisy even seemed to have her neck craned to the side to see past her shop window with intrigued expression plastered on her withered face.

"I know." Hancock replied. "Let them watch. No need to be shy. Though I do find it …delectable."

This was a dangerous town full of drug lords and gangsters, not a place for necking. She rationalized it was more about protecting his image than her embarrassment, but in her time kissing in public was borderline scandalous. Her relationship with Nate had been very conservative. Limited public displays of affection and propitiatory abounded. Nate would have pulled away if she dared kissed him in the open and here Hancock was demanding her affection for all eyes to see. "Aren't they going to think you're going soft?"

"No need to worry, the last thing I am around you is soft."

There was no further room for discussion as his lips met hers. The world dissolved away and they were just the two of them, bound together. He consumed her like fire, lighting up every raw nerve along her body as his unrestrained tongue met hers in an exotic tango. Macha's protest died in those flames and she didn't care if the entire Institute was watching and recording this moment for scientific purposes. He had claimed her, right in the open, unconcerned about what his people or town thought. He wanted her and wanted everyone to know it. There was something so sexy and provocative about that it caused Macha to release a tiny desperate moan.

He broke the kiss far sooner than she would have liked, pulling back and gazing at her with dark eyes. "Sorry love," His breathing was deep and erratic. "but it's really hard to take things slow when you keep making noises like that."

"Are you done?" Fahrenheit's powerful voice interrupted them as she stepped out of the state building. The intimidating woman looked nettled and tossed her orange hair out of her face. "Cause I've got a bunch of fuckin' paperwork up here that you need to sign now that you are back in town and I'm not gonna wait here while you play grab ass."

Hancock sighed in defeat. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll take care of business, don't you worry. Just saying some parting words."

Fahrenheit raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I didn't see much talking going on."

"I just walked through the goddamn door. Gimme a minute before you heap that shit on me." He said without anger. "Besides, have you seen her ass? It's worth taking a moment to appreciate."

Macha wanted to crawl away and hide. Her ass was now a topic to comment on and she wasn't entirely sure she was comfortable with that. And yes... of course...people where now looking at her ass to see if it lived up to their standards.

Fahrenheit threw her arms up in exasperation and headed back inside the building as John turned back to Macha."She means well. It was unfair of me to just take off and dump all this on her. I got some business to attend to, love. Go do what you need to do. You know where to find me when you are ready."

Macha nodded dumbly, her lips still on fire -like much of her face- from their little exchange as he departed. Everyone in the square suddenly busied themselves with other tasks, as if they hadn't seen a thing. Macha knew though, Hancock may as well have hung a proverbial sign around her neck that said "MINE!" Perhaps this was payback for the Ghoul sign joke she had made in front of Danse? Maybe it was his strange of protecting her? Now, word would travel and everyone in town would know, you mess with her, you messed with Hancock. Which could be both a good thing and a bad thing.

Clearing her throat, Macha picked her weighty pack up and hauled it towards Daisy's shop. The Ghoul woman had not stopped grinning the entire time, even when pretending to wipe down her counter top.

"Sooooo... you looking for supplies?" Daisy asked. It wasn't what she was asking, not really, they both knew that.

Macha felt all the eyes on her, staring now that her back was to them. She could hear them whispering among themselves. She sighed. "Hi Daisy. More like selling. I've been busy."

Oh goddammit.

Daisy snorted in barley contained laughter. "I can tell."

* * *

Hancock ran his hand over his bald head in frustration as he went over the stacks and stacks of paperwork. There was normally plenty to deal with on a daily basis, but these had piled up in his absence and were overflowing his desk. Invoices, inventory on the bar, pay for the neighborhood watch, caravan and trade contracts, the list went on and on. He had been working for over an hour and barely made a dent.

"Now I remember why I left." He complained, starting on his second pack of cigarettes for the day. He was going to need a lot of chems and a stiff drink after this.

"Quit your bitching." Fahrenheit said, handing him yet another stack of forms. "You are the one who ditched us to chase some tail-"

"Hey!" Hancock cut her off sharply. Fahrenheit gazed at him in surprise. He rarely raised her voice at her. His features softened a bit in remorse. "She's not just some tail…" He started. "She's… she's."

"Holy shit." The woman cursed in disbelief. "So after all this time, all this fucking around, someone finally held your interest, huh?"

John waived her comment away in a haze of cigarette smoke and tried to refocus on the mountain of paperwork before him.

Fahrenheit shook her head in alarm. "Bad timing boss. Sinjin is movin' in on Goodneighbor's turf. Lots of the caravans are being hit hard. Rucker alone tripled his rates this month citing losses from both Northy and Smiling Kate. Seems Sinjin is uniting the raiders across the city, banding them together like a small army. If word gets out you're sweet on some broad-"

"I'll deal with Sinjin." Hancock growled. That wasn't good news. Goodneighbor relied on those caravans to bring in much needed supplies for Daisy and Kleo's shops. If the rates went up because of raids, his people would suffer and so would his business. Most people in town barely scraped by as is on meager caps earned by odd jobs and the liquor for the Third Rail was imported from traders like Rucker. Hancock liked to pretend he ran the show, but the true star of Goodneighbor was booze, chems and sex. Sinjin strangling their resources meant people got scared and angry. And scared people did stupid shit like revolt or riot which was typically not favorable for those in charge.

As far as Macha was concerned, she was tough and could handle herself. She blended into the shadows now with such grace and ease even he lost sight of her in moments. She was a crack shot, putting a bullet in the brains of anyone foolish enough to get in her sights. He wasn't worried there. He'd personally flay anyone that tried to harm her. Besides, they had taken down a fucking deathclaw together. Sinjin was easy quarry compared to the deadliest predator of the wastes.

"Send out some feelers and see if you can get a bead on Sinjin's hideout. Lean on a few scavers if needed, but keep it discrete." He said thoughtfully, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. "We may have to send him a reminder soon that this is my goddamn town."

Fahrenheit nodded in comprehension as she headed towards the door, already sorting through her mental list of informants. She passed the auburn woman that had captured Hancock's attention on her way out. Using her years of combat experience, she quickly sized Macha up. At first appearance, the woman seemed unimposing; like a suburban housewife on one of those old Nuka-Cola posters. Tight-laced, neat and given her hair cut and Pipboy, a former vault dweller pretending to be a hardcore wastelander. Yet, most people Hancock ran with had to hold their own or they didn't survive.

A second glance revealed the scrapes and dents in the woman's armor, the small arsenal of weapons hidden on her person, the lithe muscles that flexed as she moved. The woman may flash a saccharine smile, but her eyes were hard and alert. She wondered how many people had only taken that first passing glance and ended up paying for that oversight with their lives.

The redhead gave Fahrenheit an acknowledging nod as she joined Hancock in his office and wrapped her arms around his hunched form, whispering something in his ear. Fahrenheit saw something then that cemented her decision about the woman's lethality. This wasn't just a passing crush Hancock had; he was in love. It was etched in his being, every movement betraying his adulation. His eyes lit up the second she came in the room and he beamed, unconsciously leaning into her touch. His features softened and lost some of that sadness that weighed him down. She glimpsed the first genuine smile not induced by chems in years.

Fahrenheit scowled slightly. She was happy for him but this was a problem. Year after year she had watched her friend spiral into more destructive chem and alcohol use to the point she wondered if one day she would find him dead in his office. He deserved some happiness, but there was more risk than reward when it came to love. Sinjin was a nasty piece of work; a drug lord turned raider leader with ambitions to own Goodneighbor and anyone that set foot through its doors. This complicated matters and made her job harder. Now she had to re-evaluate how to keep the woman safe too, because if anything happened to her, Fahrenheit knew her boss wouldn't likely be around for long afterward.

The warrior cracked her knuckles and left the lovers in peace. She had some heads to knock together, a few palms to grease and needed to make sure certain mouths stayed shut. She equated her job to a game of chess and another player had just entered the fray; a rogue pawn that had somehow checked the King and had thrown off her game.

* * *

"Here's your share of the caps." Macha said, placing a hefty purse on the desk as she leaned over him.

John sighed contently at her warmth resting against him. This was all he needed. He handed the caps back to her, putting down his cigarette to squeeze her hand for a moment. "Nah. Keep 'em. I got plenty. Go by yourself something nice."

"Like what?" Macha said tossing herself on his well broke in couch. "Ohhhh. Maybe that missile launcher that Kleo has for sale. What did she name it? The Partystarter? You think it shoots confetti?"

"No, but I bet the fireworks it creates are a sight to behold." Hancock laughed softly, signing off on his inventory log for the bar. One down, hundreds to go. He watched Macha out of the corner of his eye as she injected her self with one of her powerfully concocted chems.

She offered him a box a berry mentats. "Something to liven up all that paperwork?"

She tossed it to him and he downed a few, feeling the rush of the narcotics. He repaid her with a charming grin. "Where have you been all my life?"

"I suspect, a popsicle for most of it." Macha replied, fiddling with her Pipboy. She cycled through a few of her games, thinking about playing a round of Red Menace while she waited, but wasn't really in the mood. She flipped over to the radio stations and something caught her eye. "Silver Shroud Radio? What's that?"

"Eh, friend of mine, Kent, plays reruns of Galaxy News Radio and does a talk show on that station. Some Pre-War radio show about a costumed vigilante in a trench coat."

Macha sat up animatedly. "No way!? No fucking way!? The Silver Shroud? Like THE Silver Shroud? Super hero and crime fighter of the streets of Boston?!"

"So, got a thing for costumed freaks, huh?" He winked at her. "Well, guess we knew that."

She tuned into the station, giddy as the familiar cheesy intro began.

"Chamomile, bane, ecstasy, this can only be...The Den of Mysteries!" Her Pipboy blared in the overdramatic baritone of the Shroud.

"Be still sweet shroud I removed that scumbag's slug, but you're sick with fever and still suffering." The Mistress of Mystery's sultry voice was exactly how she had recalled it.

"You're really into this, aren't you?" Hancock observed.

"Sushhhhhhh." Macha flapped her hand at him to be quiet. "This is the part where the chief of police shows up and accuses them of murder."

Sure enough, an amplified voice boomed over the radio waves, demanding the Shroud surrender. John went back to his paperwork, amused as she gasped at every pseudo gun shot and sound effect emitted.

"You know," He said once the broadcast was over. "Kent lodges over at the Memory Den. He's a real fan of the show. Ghoul, been around since probably before your time and knows almost every line by heart. He even has some of the old posters and memorabilia. I'm gonna be here a while. Why don't you go meet him? Reminisce a bit. I'll catch up when I'm done and we can go for a drink at the bar."

Macha crinkled her nose. Her last experience with the Memory Den had been unpleasant. Having to relive Nate's murder and the theft of her child. The there was the trip into Kellogg's mind. Still, she had loved the Silver Shroud growing up. Her parents had listened to it with her every Sunday night before bed. She had even dressed up as the Shroud one Halloween and had stalked around the neighborhood threatening all the 'monsters' in her best Shroud impression. He had been her childhood hero. The product of simpler times and happier memories. It would be nice to speak to someone who recalled that.

Standing, Macha started towards the door and then doubled back to John, gracing his cheek with a kiss.

"Thanks." She whispered. "Don't keep me waiting too long."

And then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness and leaving Hancock with renewed motivation to get through this heap of paperwork as quickly as possible.

* * *

Hancock paused at the doorway to Kent's room in the Den. Macha's throaty laugh resounded off the walls of the cozy room, bringing a smile to his face. He lit another cigarette grumbling as his fingers wouldn't cooperate. Goddamn his hand hurt. If he never saw another form or work order again, it would be too soon.

"-and then Manta Man turned to the Shroud and said, 'I think Mr. Abominable just needed to ...chillout." Macha's voice was high pitched in fervor, nearly stumbling over her words as she tried to expel them.

He heard Kent wheeze with laughter and slap his knee. "Yeah... and then.. the Shroud said, 'He was on thin ice."

They both dissolved into a fit of hysteria as John entered the room. Kent had pulled out all his old posters and cardboard cut outs of gangsters from the original show he had salvaged. No doubt he had told her the back story of every one and how he acquired it.

"You kids having fun?" He asked, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

Macha rubbed the laughter induced tears from the corner of her eye and went to join him by his side. John felt a secret thrill about that, like he already knew his place in the world; right next to her.

"I was just telling your friend about how we could really use someone like the Shroud here in Goodneighbor." Kent offered in way of greeting. "Someone to give the rest of us a symbol of something better. I have a plan to bring the Shroud to life."

Hancock humored him. Kent was a good guy, a bit stuck in the past, but alright in his book. "Worth trying anything once, but if it involves mad scientists and electricity that's not really my shtick."

Macha nudged him with her hip. She clucked her tongue at him in disapproval. "Be nice. Good for you Kent, for trying to make the world better."

She was still trying to save the world, one person at a time. He watched with admiration as Macha and Kent plotted to revive the Shroud by reclaiming his costume from Hubris comics.

"You're the best. I know you'll find it and we can finally see some justice on these streets." Kent said, standing and offering Macha a handshake. She seemed taken aback for a moment, then clasped his hand with hers in the perfect gesture of civility so long ago forgotten.

* * *

"Wait...?" Hancock question in confusion. Either he had one too many beers or the writers of show really loved dreadful puns. He had never listened to the radio broadcasts in great detail, and now he was kinda glad he didn't. The campy plot sounded absurd to even his stoned ears. "So Mr. Abominable was trapped in an iceberg?"

Macha took a shot of vodka and turned the shot glass over, tapping the counter to signal Whitechapel she was ready for the next round. The bartender of the Third Rail hovered over and replaced it with a brimming shot of vodka. "Yeah. He was a caveman. That's why when the dynamic duo of Manta Man and the Shroud put him back on ice.. they said -she paused for dramatic effect- he needed to chillout. You get it? Because of the ice?"

John groaned and shook his head. "That's bad."

"What?" She sounded slightly offended.

"Dynamic Duo? Who wrote that shit? And why the hell do you seem to enjoy it?"

"I grew up on that show. The Shroud was always kinda my hero. Didn't you know you were dating a square?"

"It's the rounder parts that caught my eye, but I'll address that on another day."

Macha playfully backhanded him in the arm before taking another shot.

Their conversation was interrupted as a ghoul woman flung her arms around Hancock's neck, knocking his hat askew. Macha briefly fantasized about breaking a beer bottle on the bar top and repeatedly stabbing her with it as the ghoul pressed her body against Hancock and nuzzled his neck. "Hey Hancock." She crooned coquettishly. "Been a long time. You back for another tour of the town?"

"Sorry, ain't a touring Ghoul anymore. The one I got ain't the type you go wandering on." He cast Macha a fetching wink as he untangled himself from the woman's arms and gently pushed her off of him. Classy and cool, unlike Macha who was contemplating murder.

The ghoul gave Macha a death glare, her gaze scrutinizing Macha. It was obvious she didn't approve.

"Hi." Macha fluttered her lashes at the woman and reached across the bar, taking John's hand in her own. She ran her thumb over his, daring the woman to touch him again. John drove the point home by bringing her hand to his mouth and planting a kiss on the back of Macha's hand.

"Oh. I see." Her lip curled up in disgust, but she said nothing more and quickly left the bar. Macha waited till she had departed and dropped his hand giving John what he could only refer to as THE LOOK.

"Please tell me that wasn't what it sounded like. You ran a side business as a tour guide as part of your mayorial duties, right?" Macha asked, not daring to hope.

John half shrugged seeming just a bit guilty. "Well.. not really. I did tell you there were other-"

"Hancock!" A petite brunette woman called across the bar as she exited the restroom.

Hancock spun around on his bar stool as the busty human girl approached him. The brunette actually preened in front of him, fussing with her hair and straightened her dress. "I heard you were back in town. I just got a new place at the north end and was wondering if you would like a tour?"

Hancock chuckled nervously and Macha's THE LOOK grew sharper. He was fairly certain if it intensified any further, she could shoot lasers from her eyes without the need of fusion cells.

"How lovely," Macha interjected through clenched teeth. "Maybe we can chip in for a housewarming gift sometime later. At the moment, my boyfriend and I are having a drink."

"B-boy.. friend?" The girl stammered, losing confidence.

"Guilty as charged." Hancock leaned back with that same cool smile. He was enjoying this Macha realized. She was going to kill him. Once she was done with this girl, that is. She would kill them both and feed Strong their bodies.

"Oh. Sorry. N-nevermind. I'll just... excuse me." With that, the busty brunette headed back up the stairs.

"Just how many 'tours' have you been on?" Macha growled at him. She knew he was a bit of a player, but my god, did he fuck half the town? Adjusting to their relationship was hard enough with the survivor's guilt, their differences, and her conservatism, but now jealousy was being added to the list of obstacles. Even though he had rejected the women, it still stung to know he had lain with them. He had kissed them like he kissed her. Women far more unreserved and experienced than her. While she was still working through her own issues they had freely given him something she couldn't at the moment. She signaled for another shot.

"Aw, come on love. Don't be like that." He tried to reassure her by touching her arm, but she snarled in his direction. "That was before you and-"

"Hancock, baby. Long time no see-" The next woman stopped mid sentence because the barrel of Macha's suppressed .38 revolver was centered between her eyes.

"You were just leaving." Macha helpfully informed the drifter, cocking back the hammer for emphasis.

The woman's gaze flickered to Hancock who shrugged. Some other men might be turned off by her possessiveness, but not him. The thought of her resorting to violence to assert her place by his side only made him want her more. He loved watching her lose that stiff veneer of decorousness and break free of her constraints. Violence and passion ran hand and hand and he wanted nothing more than to be the one that made her lose control. "You heard the lady. She tends not to ask as nicely the second time."

"I was ...just... leaving." The woman said and backed away. She backed up a few more steps and then bolted out of the bar.

Macha ground her teeth and holstered her weapon. Her head slowly turned towards Hancock and she pinned him with her gaze. "Ok, if a super mutant walks in next and says 'Hey Hancock', I don't know if I will laugh, or cry, or shoot you. I might just do all three."

"Hey ya Hancock-"

Macha slammed her shot glass down on the bar, her neck and back muscles bunched up as she whirled on the new arrival."Oh my fucking god! Don't you ladies get it!? Here! I'll spell it out for you!"

Macha sprung up from her stool and straddled John. Propriety be damned. Without reservation, she took John's hands and put them on her ass as she smothered the ghoul with a long deep passionate kiss. There was some cat calls, whistles, and jeers as she publicly made out with him to the point of salaciousness. When she finally pulled away, he looked a bit dazed and breathless, hat nearly falling off, blinking rapidly as if to clear his head.

"There, got the idea? Now back off you harpy." She hissed at the stringy haired woman.

"Um.. I just wanted to ask for some chems." The graying woman said, baffled and wary.

Macha hadn't really even looked at her when she had addressed them. She had just assumed like the last three, they she was here for the 'tour.' The woman was in her late sixties and obviously strung out, track marks and bruises apparent on her weathered and age spotted arms. Macha digested that for a moment, the sneer slipping from her face. She glanced down at Hancock. Hancock whom she was still straddling; Hancock who she had just jammed her tongue down his throat in full view of the every bar patron; Hancock whose brash smile now stretched the entire span of his face.

"Well, don't stop on my behalf." He squeezed her ass for good measure, egging her on.

The bar was deathly quiet and Macha turned a shade of red that nearly matched her auburn tresses.

"Oh." She squeaked in mortification, sliding from his lap. She couldn't even look at the woman anymore. Instead she fished out a bottle of Buffjet and handed it her. "Sorry."

"Yeah...thanks." The older woman muttered under her breath as she wandered away. "Nutter."

Macha sat back in her seat, staring straight ahead at the dirty liquor bottles lining the shelves, trying to will herself invisible. Be the stealthboy Macha. Gradually, the sounds of the bar restored themselves and people went back to whatever it was they were doing before her outburst. The clank of glasses resumed, Magnolia took the stage and began singing and just as she thought she was safe, she caught John leering at her from the corner of her eye.

"What was it you said at the gates?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Don't." Macha said hiding her face in her hands.

"I seem to recall it was something like, 'Here? But people are watching."

"Please stop. I can't believe I did that. You must think I'm some kind of insecure crazy woman."

"Maybe, but you are my kinda crazy. I can't say I'd handle myself any better if someone put the moves on you right in front of me. If it makes you feel any better, I'll shoot the next one to get the message across." He put an arm around her and pulled her to him, rubbing her shoulder.

Her mouth twitched in an involuntary smile at that and for a moment she relaxed in his embrace, then she blinked and her gaze hardened and she snapped to attention, THE LOOK back in full force. "Wait.. There's MORE?!"

John chuckled nervously and suddenly wished for more paperwork. It was going to be a long night.


	11. The Goods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: The slog
> 
> Relationship: Romanced- taking it slow
> 
> Listening to: Thomas Bergersen – Children of the Sun
> 
> Two Steps from Hell -Stay
> 
> Warning: cursing and some minor naughty stuff

_Is that what I think it is?_ Macha shielded her eyes against the glared of the midday sun as it sparkled off the water. She leaned further out of the trees to examine what had once been a public swimming pool now turned farmland. Several ghouls bustled around, travailing in the dirt with back hoes and rakes, while another group was waist deep in the pool picking something off of the seaweed type growth that clustered in the water.

Hancock appeared at her side, shotgun at the ready. He gave her that private smile, reserved just for her, and Macha felt a moment of bliss before returning to business.

"Heard rumors of a farm run exclusively by ghouls." He said. "Guessing this must be it."

"Looks like a nice set up." Macha said, scouting it out. Fairly defensible; the chain link fence mostly still intact. The old diving boards would offer the perfect perch for a sniper or two and the solid concrete building was structurally sound. "Let's see if they are interested in joining the Minutemen. We can offer more protection and I'm really curious to see what they are harvesting in that pool."

"Hope it's not mirelurk eggs. Ughhh." He made a face of disgust.

"Oh, they aren't that bad. At least they taste like egg with the addition of dirt, metal, and rancid shellfish. Which is an improvement to most of the food here… I guess." Thinking of food, Macha retrieved a box of Dandy Boy Apple from her pack and busted it open. What once was a candied apple was now dextrose coated apple jerky. The red food coloring had turned muddy brown and bled all over the clear cellophane that it was wrapped in. It looked like a piece of pre-packaged shit in an apple stamped wrapper.

"Mmmm. Well now, isn't that UN-a -peeling." She flashed Hancock the contents of the package hoping he'd catch the fruit related pun.

He did. Hancock sighed. She had been on a pun phase ever since she had rediscovered the Silver Shroud radio broadcasts. The last few weeks of travel had been filled with every variation of pun involving the words stoned, ghoul, and anything else she could get away with. "Oh, you're a laugh a minute. If you keep making those jokes I'm going to have to tell Kent to stop that show."

Macha pouted and put the rest of the Dandy Boys away. She seemed so dejected, Hancock was tempted to retract his statement…that is – until she pulled out a skeletal arm from her pack and waived it at him- a huge grin dimpling her cheeks as the bony limb flopped about. "Why? Don't find it … humerus?"

Hancock groaned and started down the hill towards the pool. Macha was still laughing at her own joke as she ran down the hill to catch up with him, chewing on her Dandy Boy Apple.

"Still think karma is bullshit?" She asked as she joined him. "Or think you are getting exactly what you deserve for dating me?"

"Hey, you're the one stuck with this ugly mug. Who's really being punished?"

"Oh, hush. You are handsome and you know it. What is you said?" Macha did her best Hancock impression, adopting a cocksure stance and lowering the pitch of her voice. "Sounds like someone's phishing for compliments. I've got you. What else could I need?"

"I sound nothing like that." Not exactly the truth. After their return to Goodneighbor, Macha had been insecure when she discovered the number of women he had been with. It had taken a lot of smooth talking and reassuring to get her over it. He didn't think she was completely accepting of their relationship, but she was trying. And seeing her act defensive and protective of him actually had pleased him. In an odd way, it meant she cared.

He couldn't say he understood the reason for the jealousy though. It really was no contest. The others were passing flings or something to occupy his time or energy. He rarely had to work hard to win them over. A few witty words and a charismatic wink and they were his for the night.

It wasn't the same with Macha. She didn't seem to grasp the depth of his feelings for her. He felt he always had to check himself around her. Like she was the one holding back. Any relationship he got in that was hot and heavy, he was always the one who pulled away. Never let anyone get too close. The second they did, he walked. But, he had never been in love with any of the other women either. Macha wanted to take things slow, so he was doing his best to not smoother her, but the more she resisted him, the more he wanted her.

He supposed that was part of the thrill with Macha. She was the one always running and pushing him away. He was always giving chase in a never ending hunt. Even now, he had her, but at the same time, didn't. She still had a wall up between them, and any time things got too serious, she'd find some way to disengage from him. He was patient though; he'd wait as long as she needed and savor the moment she was completely his. After all, he didn't want her just for a night, but for all nights to come. She was another rare experimental drug; one he had waited all his life to take a hit of and once he did, he would draw out that high as long as possible.

They passed through a hole in the chain link fence and approached the workers. An older ghoul in a dirt stained tee shirt picked himself off the ground, brushing his earth encrusted fingers on his pants and went to greet them. Hancock paused a moment, startled to see someone he recognized. "Holy shit. Wiseman?"

The older ghoul raised a brow, not recognizing the new comer. "Do I know you, boy?"

Hancock touched the brow of his hat in greeting. "You did, but I looked different then back then. I used to see you around Diamond City before that asshole of a mayor evicted you."

Wiseman studied Hancock for a moment, then his eyes widened in surprise. "Well, if it ain't that asshole's younger brother. John McDonough. Yeah.. you have changed. Don't recall you being a ghoul. What the hell you doin out here, son?"

"Name's Hancock now and that, my friend, is a long story for another time." He gestured to Macha, who was patiently waiting nearby, not wanting to interrupt their reunion. "I'm here with the General of the Minutemen. We are looking to establish new colonies and band together. Trying to help the people of the Commonwealth. Was wondering if we could interest your fine settlement in joining."

Macha took that as her queue and stepped into the conversation. "My name is Macha, general of the Minutemen. Pleased to meet you. You've got a nice place here. I can tell you've worked hard to make it a home. You must be very proud."

"Oh yeah. It's hard work, but we get by. Only one's to cultivate tarberries. Heard the Minutemen were making a come back. Good for them." Some of the field workers had stopped and were now watching the conversation. Wiseman took note and ushered them inside. "Let's discuss this inside and over a bottle of scotch. Could use a break anyways."

They were escorted into a well furnished living room of sorts. A few comfy chairs and a threadbare couch focused around a table sporting an unfinished game of checkers. Macha scanned the checkerboard, seeing two or three moves that would result in a red piece being kinged. She crossed her fingers in her lap as she sat to avoid the temptation to alter the board.

Wiseman retrieved a few tarnished glass and poured them a snifter of scotch before heavily sitting in a chair. The chair molded to his form and Macha assumed that was his regular seat as foreman. He savored a sip before addressing them. "Been hearing good things about your people, General. They say you are banding the Commonwealth together. Offering protection and trade to those that pledge themselves to you. You sure the Minutemen wanted to be associated with a bunch of ghouls? Hard enough to get any traders to stop by, even with a rare product to offer."

"The Minutemen believe the Commonwealth is for everyone who wants to rebuild and live peacefully." Macha answered with conviction. "Our settlements are full of people from all walks of life. Our goals bond us together despite our differences. We all want to restore some of what we lost. I can assure you, your people will be welcome and it would be a great honor to include your settlement among our own. I can see to it you have protection, develop tradelines, and improve some of your amenities. My settlements have purified water filters, power, turrets and other commodities to help further their development."

Wiseman examined them for a moment, head tilted in thought before finishing off his scotch. "Gotta tell you, sounds too good to be true. But, we could use all the help we can get. There's a group of super mutants held up at the old Medford Memorial Hospital that have been harassing us. Just a few have been scouting the place out, but one chased my worker half way across the field before we got a few shots in him and changed his mind. Have a feeling they will be back, and don't think we can hold them off if they show up in force. You take care of them and me and mine will back the Minutemen."

"Consider your mutant problems over." Macha answered as she downed the scotch. She made a tiny noise in the back of her throat as it burned its way down her esophagus. Lava would have went down less painfully.

"Good ss-stuff." She choked, eyes tearing up as she handed her snifter back to the Slog's foreman.

"Yeah. Put's some real hair on your chest, doesn't it?" Wiseman stated as he poured himself another.

Macha could only nod in response as she exited the building. Two hundred year old scotch after an equally old sugary confection did not produce a pleasant flavor. Her mouth was reduced to the Sahara desert and all her taste buds had committed seppuku in order to escape that horrendous taste. _Goddamn and I thought wasteland food was bad._ She thought, trying to keep it together as she sought for a way to cleanse her palate that wouldn't offend their host.

Before her, the blue pool water gleamed invitingly. Thick ropey vines of tarberry seaweed clumped together in the soft undulating waves the afternoon breeze created. She had never tried a tarberry by itself before. Only used them to enhance the occasional box of mentats. It kinda made them taste like kids chewable vitamins, so they couldn't be that bad by themselves, could they? Anything had to be better than this.

"Mfind if I twry w-one?" She asked the foreman, pointing to the berries. Her tongue was no longer cooperating and was trying – albeit unsuccessfully- to flee her mouth.

"Huh? Oh the berries? Sure, sure. Hop on it. Matter a fact, if you wanna help us harvest them, Holly there will pay you a few caps for whatever you bring her."

Macha caught a glimpse of the platinum blonde woman the foreman indicated. She raised her hand in an acknowledging wave, but Macha was already knee deep in the water, plucking a few of the purple berries and jamming one into her mouth. Macha turned green as her teeth burst its tough skin and her mouth flooded with what she could only describe as liquified asphalt. Oh god. She was going to puke in their pool. She was going to vomit all over their crop and there would go any chance of them joining the Minutemen.

"Ahem." Hancock cleared his throat, shaking a carton of purified water at her.

Macha didn't hesitate as she snatched the carton from him and downed the entire contents. Rivulets of water coursed from her mouth as she chugged it down.

"You know," Hancock said with amusement. "They are called tarberries for a reason."

Macha used her free hand to give him the finger as she continued to purge her mouth of foul tasting fruit. She gasped for air once the carton was empty and cast a smoldering gaze at Hancock.

"Why didn't you warn me?" She rasped.

"Only have one life, why not try it all." He grinned. "Didn't want to deprive you of the experience."

"That was one experience I could have lived without." Macha replied, equipping her weapon and shoving the empty carton a little too forcefully into Hancock's hands.

"Yeah. They are a bit on acquired taste." Wiseman observed with a good-natured laugh. He waived them both farewell before resuming his farming. "Good luck out there. Try not to get yourself killed."

* * *

"Why… does he have a toaster? Macha didn't really expect an answer, but it was just too weird not to comment on. This was the last one they had need to kill in order to clear the hospital and try as she might, she could find no logical reason a super mutant would want to haul a toaster around.

"Maybe he heard me shout 'you're toast' when I was taking him out? Thought he'd be prepared?" Hancock quipped, reloading. "But, it's probably more along the lines of. 'Oh. Shiny. Me want."

Glaring at him dubiously, Macha yanked the toaster from the super mutant's belt. It was still mostly intact. Good for parts at least. She shoved it into her backpack along with the rest of the junk she had collected from the hospital. "Why is it ok for you to make bad puns and not me?"

"Because mine are better." He stated with succinct confidence.

"Oh come on! I've got a real bone to pick with you if you didn't find the last one at least a little funny."

Hancock ran his hand across his face. "I am way to sober for this."

Macha produced a tin of orange mentats from her pocket and approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaned into him.

"I can help with that." She said as she dropped a few mentats on her tongue and brought her mouth to his.

Well, this was new. He was usually the one initiating the kissing, not her. _Guess all the fighting must have really got her blood pumping._ He couldn't think anymore then because her tongue sought out his and he lost himself to the ecstasy of Macha and the chems as they dissolved on their tongues.

His strong hands enveloped her waist, pulling her closer. The chems kicked in and made him painfully aware of just how soft her lips were against his. He delighted in the brush of his mouth on hers, each passing moment more passionate as he drowned in her taste and scent. Her sharp intake of breath at his touch teased him. Their hearts- still beating fast from the thrill of the kill- sounded in time as he nibbled on her bottom lip.

She continued to surprise him, pulling away and boldly trailing a series of nips and kisses up the nape of his neck. Her teeth found purchase and tugged at what left of his earlobe as his hands progressed under her shirt and up her torso.

Damn, he hated that she wore a full chest plate. He wanted to -needed to- feel her heat under his finger tips. That supple smooth glowing skin of hers demanded exploration. Reclaiming her mouth with his, he settled for cupping her ample ass, excited as she wrapped one leg around his waist drawing him to her.

Her hands traced patterns down his neck, under his shirt, and she reached between them and tentatively stroked his hardness. Her touch was adrenalizing, intensified by the perception enhancing drugs and Hancock nearly lost his balance, both of them stumbling a bit as they regained their composure. That was unquestionably new. So far she had never once attempted to touch him in that way: always too shy or scared about their differences. Always pulling away if they got too involved.

"It's getting late." She huffed, breathless and flushed a she put a halting hand on his chest. Macha glanced around the room.

They were still in the filthy hospital. The bodies of several super mutants were cooling as blood seeped into the grout of the tile and ran in small streams through holes in the floor. No doubt they were going to have super mutant blood dripping on them as they traveled back down the floors.

"Hmmm. Do my best work after dark anyways." He muttered into her neck, not wanting this to end but knowing it would. For now at least and just when they were making progress. She was right. This was not the time nor the place. In a bloody hospital surrounded by dead bodies wasn't exactly how he pictured their first time together. He may not exactly be a gentleman, but he did have some romantic inclinations.

Plus, it was smarter for them to move now while there was still light and get back to the relative safety of the settlement. Traveling at night in the Commonwealth was a good way to get ambushed.

"Just when we were having fun too." Groaning in slight frustration, he let her go, but not without one final urgent kiss. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

She bit her lip to hide a smile. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Always did like trouble. Come on, love. Let's get this freakshow on the road." She took his offered hand as they sidestepped bodies, leaving behind the carnage and death to forge a path of hope for the settler's of the Commonwealth.

* * *

"Ready to get paid for those tarberrys? The platinum blonde ghoul asked. Holly, Macha recalled the foreman had called her.

"Looking for Wiseman." Macha replied. "I wanted to let him now we took care of the super mutants."

"He's probably inside. Sure you aren't here to admire the goods?"

"The goods?" Macha asked confused. Was she a merchant? Well, that was fortuitous. She could use some more ammo. Some of those mutants took several shots to down and she was running low. "Tell me about these goods."

"You're looking at them, hot stuff. I might be a ghoul, but I'm still all woman. So what do you think?" Holly flipped her bangs out of her eyes and gave Macha a flirtatious grin.

Now Macha was really confused. Was she? No. Nooooooo. Couldn't be. "About what?"

"About me? And be honest."

Oh god. This was happening. This was actually happening. Macha could feel Hancock's smile on the back of her neck as she squirmed. Ok. She could do this. She took a deep breath and looked at Holly. Really looked at her; past the decaying flesh, lack of nose, and strange eyes.

Holly had probably been pretty once. Tall, lean, and athletic. Despite working in the fields, her hair was neatly coiffed and clean, showing she took pride in her appearance. Her eyes were radiant, blue as the pool water and seemed almost out of place amongst her burnt skin. Macha's eyes traveled down the ghoul, trying to find the best she could among the scars. J _ust think of her as a burn victim, Macha. She's still human. It's not her fault she looks like that._

Holly's smile was open and sincere, a rarity in the Commonwealth. For being over two hundred years old, she had a great set of tits. Macha only hoped hers would hold up that well when she was her age. Her eyes traveled lower, past Holly's waist, but her mind conjured the image of an old Arby's roast beef sandwich at the thought of her ghoulish genitalia and that was about as far a she got.

Well, Mom said if you can't say anything nice. "I think you look pretty good. You have a beautiful smile and your eyes are stunning."

"Hmmm.. you are looking mighty fine yourself stranger. This may be coming on a bit strong, but we ghouls don't live forever. When I see something I like, I go after it. Do you think you may ever see yourself.. dating a ghoul."

Macha's jaw dropped a second. Wow. She just came out and said it. Macha turned red and became uncomfortable. Damn. Everyone in the Commonwealth just said whatever was on their mind. There was no verbal dance she was accustomed to as a lawyer. No chance to just let things slide and pretend you missed the meaning or divert the subject with subtle machinations. They just threw it out there in the open like it was a live grenade. "Ummmm... are you hitting on me?"

Holly chuckled. "Not use to aggressive women, huh? That's ok. I would still like an answer though. So... would you date a ghoul?" She twirled a lock of hair around the end of her finger and gazed at Macha with ravenous eyes.

Suddenly Hancock was there, right by her side. She thought he would make some move to save her and get Holly to back off. A squeeze of the shoulder. Rub on the back. Holding her hand. But no.. the asshole just stood there with that cocky grin and said, "Inquiring minds want to know. Would you?"

Macha turned her head and gave him THE LOOK. It said when this is over and we are alone...I'm going to hurt you.

"I-I appreciate the offer." Macha stammered with embarrassment. "But I'm currently seeing someone. At least... I was... that may change soon." Her voice hardened with the last few words, directing them at Hancock, THE LOOK still leveled at him.

"Oh, I'm certain he won't mind." Hancock replied with smarmy inflection. "Why don't you two run off and have fun. I'll stand watch over you. Wouldn't want anyone taking advantage of you ladies while you were...occupied. The wastes can be a dangerous place."

Macha elbowed him as discretely as possible in the ribs. He flinched a bit, but never lost that shit eating grin the whole time.

Fortunately Holly was intelligent enough to figure everything out. She sighed, seeming more than a bit disappointed. "Oh. I see you would date a ghoul. Figures, the good ones are always taken. Well, good luck with everything then. Let me know if you want to help us harvest some more tarberries. Wiseman's inside."

After Macha's face returned to it's normal color, they found Wiseman and discussed the plans for incorporating the settlement into the Minutemen's faction. They would stay on a few days and help with repairs and defenses before Macha returned to the Castle and help set up a trade route. With the sun finally disappearing beyond the horizon and rain clouds looming overhead, Macha and Wiseman shook hands, sealing the deal.

"You know, I really like that place. Really is a charming little community. And the people are so friendly." Hancock said as they left the Slog for the night, planning to camp in the nearby abandoned diner. "We should go back and visit now and again. "

"Not gonna happen, John." Macha growled.

Hancock just laughed.

* * *

"Should be a good place to get some shut eye." Hancock commented as he tossed another piece of scrap wood on their fire.

Macha was finishing straightening their sleeping bags on the part of the diner floor she had cleared, readying them to turn in. They needed to get a good start in the morning with all the work they had ahead of them. The chems were calling to her as well. It was back; that tickle in the back of her mind, the itch on her arm. She needed to relax and just let loose a bit. Just to relax and take the edge off.

Digging through her backpack, Macha retrieved some of her chems. She had crafted a wide variety last chem station she had discovered. Not certain what she was feeling in the mood for, she took a little of each. Handful of bufftats, a huff a jet, and a shot of psychobuff. Her eyes dilated, pupils large and dark almost mirroring Hancock's ghoulified eyes. She let the last puff of jet escape her mouth, a swirling vortex amongst the night sky. The stars streaked across the velvet night, twisting and becoming galaxies that spun with prismatic radiance. Yessssss. That hit the spot.

"Hey, you.. may wanna slow down there," Hancock squeezed her shoulders and breaking her trance like state. "And that's coming from me. How much did you take? Let's not over do it."

Macha shrugged his concern off and snapped at him. "Don't bring me down. I can handle it. We had a rough day today. This place is relatively safe for the night now that the super mutants are gone. Just let me unwind a bit."

That was a role reversal for him. Normally, it was Fahrenheit telling him to ease up on the chems. Sometimes even hiding his stash when he got really heavy into them. He despised that shit and had threatened to fire her several times. But, as she reminded him, it was her job to keep him alive even if that was from a potential overdose. When had he become the man and started imposing his judgment on Macha? She could take care of herself and knew her limits. John dropped the subject and turned her around and kissed her on the forehead. "Sure. Just save some for me, ok?"

"Got you covered."

Hancock noticed a bloody bandage just peeking out from under her sleeve when she had removed her chest plate earlier. He gently caught Macha by the arm as she handed him two boxes of mentats, exposing more of the wrap. He tugged up her sleeve to get a better look at the bandage, shocked when she slapped his hand away. "I didn't know you got hit today."

"It's not a bullet wound." She said self consciously pulling the sleeve over her arm. "Just a rash or something. I probably ran into some mutated poison ivy or something. Just leave it be. It will heal on it's own."

She started to scratch it and caught herself, balling her fist up and cementing it to her side with purpose.

"Well," Hancock traced a thumb down her face and neck. "Just so we are clear. I'm here to scratch any itch you may have."

Macha rolled her eyes and climbed into her bedroll and patted the surface of his adjacent one, indicating he should join her. Shrugging off his coat and putting his hat on the counter, Hancock slid into his sleeping bag and welcomed Macha into his arms. He sighed contently as she rested her head on his chest, her fingers playing with the frills of his jabot.

"That reminds me," Macha said. "I thought you said you would react as jealously as I did if someone openly hit on me?"

"Well, sure, if it was a man."

Macha turned around in his arms and glared at him. "And a woman doesn't warrant that reaction?"

"Like I said, only live once. Why rule out a possibility of a threesome?"

"We have barley gotten past second base and you are already thinking about threesomes?"

"That wasn't a no." He pointed out. "And I like to plan ahead."

"No." Macha clarified. "You are just one horny ghoul, aren't you?"

"Only for you, love. Got me on the edge of my seat. Though.. what's a base have to do with anything?"

Macha rolled over and propped herself up on her arm, looking at him squarely. "Seriously? You don't know about the bases? What are they teaching kids in school these days? Though... I guess I shouldn't be surprised, given that swatter guy's definition of baseball over at Diamond City."

"Don't tell it's not actually beating the shit outta people with bats? Because that sounded like one sport I could really get into."

"Not even close."

"Christ. What did you people do for fun? Macrame? The end of the world probably couldn't come fast enough."

"The bases were certainly fun." Macha went on to describe the bases and their various stages and significance in sexual conquest.

"Well, that gives a whole new meaning to running the bases."

Macha chuckled, back in his arms. He ran his hand over hers, both of them staring up at the stelliferous sky through the broken diner windows. "Never thought I'd have to explain something about sex to you, Mr. Tourguide. Suppose I have to tell you what the Mile High Club is now as well."

"Got my attention."

When Macha had finished her description, she found Hancock gazing at her with a wicked smile. "Are you certain we can't jack a Vertibird from the Brotherhood?"

"Absolutely not. Neither one of us can still fly and I'm not to keen on the idea of giving the pilot a free show."

"Can't say I didn't try." He squeezed her a bit closer.

Moments passed in silence as the stars twinkled overhead and their breathing patterns fell into a slow steady rhythm. He figured she had dozed off, but she spoke after a while. "You sure this is what you want? I mean...us?"

"Well I figure at this point you got enough dirt on me I gotta stick around." He replied, feeling her shoulders rise and fall in silent mirth. "What about you? You sure you want to wake up to this ugly mug?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way." She kissed him to reinforce her statement and tucked herself back into the crook of his arm.

"There is one thing that's been bothering me though." Hancock teased as Macha blinked sleepily and focused on his face, worry furrowing her brow. "Who's this other guy you told Holly are seeing? Hmmmm... Let's see. I know. It's Danse, isn't it?"

Macha made a disgusted noise and smacked him in the chest, turning her back to him but still cradled in his arms. "We are so not going there."

Hancock followed her, spooning with her; their bodies a perfect fit together. "I'm charming. Witty, irresistibly handsome, yet you still withstand my allure. Maybe that's what our relationship needs? I just need to turn to you in the middle of the night and say-"

"I swear to whatever god you believe in, if you say it, I WILL cause you harm."

"Ad victoriam, soldier." He breathed on the back of her neck.

The guard patrolling the Slog that night stopped to investigate the shouts coming from the diner. His finger found the trigger as he crept nearer, thinking the two new comers were in distress or under attack. He stopped several feet from the diner when he heard what the commotion was actually about.

"Not the hat Macha! You don't -ow- hit a man with his own hat!"

"Ad Victoriam John!"

"Come here!"

"No!"

The guard chuckled as the shouts became squeals of laughter and delight as the male voice resounded. "Gotcha!"

Damn fools were going to alert every raider in a five mile radius to their presence, but he still couldn't bring himself to tell them to keep it down. It had been a long time since he had heard unrestrained laughter like that. Backing away, he resigned himself to be extra vigilant that night and let the two have their fun, recalling how he and his wife had once dallied like that before the bombs had fallen.


	12. Overdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Goodneighbor and Boston Public library
> 
> Spoilers: Public Knowledge
> 
> Listening to: R. Armando Morabito – Dominion
> 
> Dean Valentine - Now I Take Everything From You
> 
> Warnings: Cursing

Macha raised a skeptical brow at the ghoul, counting the bullets she had in her hand. The brass casings of the .308 caliber rounds glistened dully in the neon lights. Thirty. That's all she could afford even with all the junk she had traded in. "Jesus, Daisy! Your prices have skyrocketed recently. You trying to kill me without firing a shot?"

The ghoul flicked her bangs out of her eyes and provided Macha a sympathetic smile. "Tell me about it. Some of the caravans are being hit hard by local raiders and they are charging extra to cover their losses and the extra risk. Some new group that isn't taking protection money from Bunker Hill. Had to raise my costs just to make a living."

Macha sighed and took the ammo. Had to make do with what you got. "Well damn. At this rate I'm going to need to get a second job just to afford a drink in this town."

Daisy chortled, her rough voice reminding Macha of the sound of a crumpled paper bag. "All of us will, I'm afraid. I do have work though, if you are interested. "

Daisy ducked behind her counter for a moment, and upon return, laid out a dusty book for Macha to see. It was a heavy tome, with a ripped paper jacket and red ribbon bookmark poking out of the top like it was sticking out its tongue. Macha wiped the layer of grime off the cover and blinked in surprise.

"The Joy of Cooking?" She questioned, not sure what this had to do with a job. She flipped the book open and carefully paged through the aged yellow paper. Most of the recipes had faded or were a mere smudge of ink and color on the pages. Turning to the back, she ran her fingers over the bar code embedded in the cover. Above it, the stiff Franklin Gothic font boldly proclaimed: PROPERTY OF BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY.

"Yeah. Call me sentimental, but I have a lot of fond memories of the times I spent at the Boston Public Library. I recently heard it was over run by super mutants. I know its silly, but I hate to think of a place I love being torn apart even more by those brutes. I'll pay you 200 caps to clear them out.. and return the book. Sadly, there are no recipes for Brahmin Wellington or Deathclaw deviled eggs, so it doesn't translate well to today's ingredients."

"Well, I suppose Julia Childs didn't anticipate post apocalyptic cuisine. Otherwise, the title may read The Joy of Cooking Your Enemies or something similar."

Daisy laughed. "I can see why he fancies you. You have his macabre sense of humor."

"And all this time, I thought it was for my ass." Macha mumbled putting the book in her pack. She really should ask for more caps –especially since she was bound to expend more bullets than the caps she would earn- but as an avid reader and bibliophile, she couldn't bring herself to up the price. "Alright Daisy. I'll clear them out."

"Thanks hon. You are the good sort. Try and keep him out of trouble. This town needs him."

"I think I attract more trouble than keep him from it," Matcha said glancing at the statehouse where Hancock was no doubt buried under a behemoth sized pile of paperwork. "But I'll try."

* * *

He had lost how many caps this month?! Hancock growled, rechecking his math as he went over his books again. Throwing down his pen in exasperation, he sat back, kicking his boots up his desk and lit a cigarette. Damn. It was right. He had lost over 500 caps this month alone because of the rising costs of alcohol. He was going to have to have Whitechapel raise the rates in order to cover his overhead costs.

"Fahrenheit," He said around the smoke, letting it seep out of his mouth like a waterfall. "Any word on Sinjin?"

"No sign of where he went to ground. He's smart, boss. Sending his lackeys to do everything while he's hiding in the shadows. What's worse, scavvers and stoolies are terrified of him. No one's talkin. Not for bribes or favors.. even chems. He's squeezing us and he knows it. Already had one provisioner say this was his last trip. And more will follow. The people are getting restless. It's getting harder to buy food, chems, and booze."

"I'll just give 'em one of my speeches and that will settle them down. Should buy us some time to find Sinjin. What about Northy and Smiling Kate?"

The bodyguard shook her head. "Negative. They are too well protected to get to. Their group is controlling some of best choke points and ambush sites in town. It would be a suicide run to even try."

Shit. Sinjin had him by the balls and he knew it. He deliberated out loud. "There has to be some way to draw him out."

He tapped his finger against the arm of his chair, deep in thought. Hancock startled when a soft rap at the door broke his concentration.

"Busy?" Macha asked, sticking her head through the door.

He immediately broke into a smile and -putting his cigarette down- stood to welcome her into his office. "Never too busy for you love."

After a brief greeting to Fahrenheit, Macha entered the room and threw her arms around him, kissing him without reservation. He welcomed her embrace and spun her around with a slight laugh as he ran his hands along her neck and shoulders. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

"To help alleviate the drudgery of paperwork." She answered, kissing the knuckles of his cramping hand. "Figured you may need it. I've got my own pile building up at the Castle. I was hoping you'd take pity on me and return the favor when it comes to my turn."

"With interest." He replied, waggling his brow in a suggestive manner.

"Besides. I missed you."

"Missed me? Of course you did. You just couldn't stay away. I know the feeling." He caught Fahrenheit rolling her eyes in disgust before he refocused on Macha's face.

With one last kiss, he reluctantly let her go and went back to his desk, putting the Third Rail's ledger aside. He'd tackled that problem later once he made some headway. He pulled out a random form and went back to work. "What glorious tasks await you at the Castle?"

Macha flopped on the couch and sighed, ticking off the items one by one on her fingers. "Oversee the initial training regime Shaw set up for new recruits; establish the trade line for the Slog, see to building some more artillery guns and basically anything other little thing they can't accomplish without my input."

"Sound's about right. But that's the price we pay. It's awful lonely for us folks at the top. Or at least, it was."

Macha blew him a kiss and went back to fiddling with her Pipboy, scanning through the channels.

Fahrenheit stoically interrupted. "Boss, when you said this line of work may involve torture, I didn't think you meant this."

"If you are feeling left out, you two can kiss as well. I promise I won't mind." Hancock said gesturing to Macha and Fahrenheit.

They two women gazed at each other for a split second and both resounding, "No."

"Oh shit." Macha stood as the Silver Shroud radio blared on her Pipboy. "I totally forgot I promised Kent I'd get him the Silver Shroud costume." She groaned. "I am a terrible friend. But I just told Daisy I'd go clear out the library for her and return a book. I have got way too much to do."

"Kent can wait on the costume. It's probably better that way. For some reason, I've had my fill of puns. I'll shoot myself and then both of you if I have to hear it in stereo."

Macha stopped and thought about what he said, reordering the words in her mind. "I don't think that's how it works, John. You aren't really going to let Kent run around all vigilante in the Shroud costume, are you? I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a sweet guy, but not exactly Shroud material. He could get hurt. Especially if he tries to take on some of the nastier denizens of Goodneighbor. Please tell me you'll talk some sense into him if he tries."

"Ah, he's harmless. The most injury he could inflict is to cause people to die of laughter. Someone may rough him up a bit but that's the cost of throwing down with the man. He'll drop it the second he gets nervous and finds out the difference between radio shows and real life."

"Tough love huh?"

"The best kind." He said flexing his hand and reaching for his cigarette.

"Alright." Macha said, getting up and stretching. "I can at least let him know I'm working on it. This way I don't subject you to anymore puns while you work. It hurts that you don't appreciate them. But that's ok. I know Kent will. I guess Kent and I are just on the same... wavelength."

"Matcha!" Hancock growled, giving her his own version of THE LOOK as she exited the office.

Fahrenheit silently watched the exchange, the chess pieces in her head starting to realign in a new pattern. _There has to be some way to draw him out._ Hancock's words echoed in her mind. Sometimes in chess, you had to sacrifice a pawn to win the game and Fahrenheit may have just discovered the perfect move to end the match.

* * *

The steam from the vent in the ground wafted over Macha as she passed the Third Rail. Some people may hate Goodneighbor, but she always found it tragically beautiful. She loved the Art Deco windows, fractured as they were and resplendent in their destruction. The town had character. Yes, it was home to drifters, junkies, and some questionable characters, but everyone here had a story. She loved the soul of the city. Home of the lost. Because everyone was a little lost at some point in their life and she was no different.

Her boots clicked on the cobblestone street as she entered the crimson glow of the Memory Den's sign. She hesitated as she approached the door. She wanted to go in...but... there was something she needed to do first. She needed... needed. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, her tongue made of paper.

Macha's stubby nails raked across her upper arm. She was so damn itchy. Why wouldn't this thing heal? Her fingers came away from the bandage, fresh blood blooming out from the linen wrap.

"Shit." She cursed, hurrying into a back alley. She ducked behind a particularly odoriferous pile of refuse and took off the bandage. Several scabs were oozing blood. It trickled down the marks her nails had left from constant scratching.

Macha cleaned the wound as best she could, re-bandaging it and injecting herself with a Stimpak to stop the bleeding. Moments ticked by and the trickle of blood finally stopped. The corner of her mouth dragged down in annoyance. She had to stop scratching. She was making it worse.

_Just need to take my mind off the itching,_ she thought as she pulled out a needle full of Psychobuff. Plunging the needle into her thigh, her eyes widened as the ground around her became a river of gold. It traveled up the wall, painting the dark alley in its luminous dusky glow. Macha sank to her knees, entranced as the gold turned into a young boy with shining hair. The silhouette held out his hand to her, beckoning her to follow. He tempted her to join him among the glittering curtains of gold.

"Shaun." Macha whispered, reaching for her son. Her hands outstretched in welcome. Her son was home. He was finally safe.

"Hey!" One of the neighborhood watch guards poked her with the barrel of his shotgun. "You can't sleep here. Get a bedroll or go to the Rexford. Now, move on!"

Macha swatted at him without any coordination like he was an annoying bloatfly. Her words were thick and syrupy, trailing from her lips in slothful amble. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm moving."

How long had she been out? Macha picked herself out of the trash, brushing off some clinging pieces of garbage. Couldn't have been long. Just tired, that's all. Too much to do. She picked up her backpack and slug it on her shoulder, heading around the bend to the Den.

"Fuckin junkies." The man from the Watch said, resuming his patrol.

Junkie? Who the fuck did he think she was? She wasn't a junkie. She had just dozed off. She only used recreationally and could stop anytime. Fucker. Sticking her hand in her pocket so she didn't scratch, Macha melted into the halo of the ruddy light and entered the Den.

* * *

"Welcome to the Boston Public Library. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but we are experiencing some technical difficulties. For more information, please call our hot line." The intercom chirped in an overly cheery feminine voice.

Macha looked at Hancock and shrugged. "Um... I'm an employee. Let me in."

"Please provide your six digit employee ID code."

"Let me guess. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6." Hancock joked.

"Welcome Mr. Mayor. Please enjoy your stay. We are currently undergoing maintenance."

"You have got to be shitting me." Macha mumbled in disbelief.

Hancock pinched her on the ass, enjoying the startled squeak she issued as she jumped forward, and pushed the ornate door open. "You'd be surprised how often that works. Ladies first."

"You just want to watch my ass."

"Just enjoying the view."

"Uh huh. That's what I thought." Macha crouched low and snuck forward, catching Hancock giving her ass an appreciative once over before following suit.

A few protectrons policed the main entrance, their clunky footfalls echoing of the mostly empty bookcases. So far, there were only a few corpses, no sign of any living threat. Macha spied what she was looking for: The red boxy book return.

"I'll be amazed if this still works." She narrated, sliding the book into the return slot. The ancient machine thought a moment, then loaded up a thank you screen, reinforcing the token rewards system. A few grinding gears later, five wooden tokens rolled out of the machine into the collection cup. Picking up her tokens, Macha scrolled through the list of prizes, one catching her eye.

"A Massachusetts Surgical Journal. Nice." Shit. It was 50 tokens. That was a lot of overdue books to return. "Keep an eye out for overdue books. I want that magazine."

Hancock picked a book up off the desk and held it up. "Like this?'

"Yes!" Macha was ecstatic as more tokens evacuated the machine.

"A bit on the dry side for me." Hancock commented, poking around the filing cabinets. "But I'm all in if you see a readable copy of Guns and Bullets. A good book can be a ghoul's best friend. No one else usually talks to us. Not a problem I've had myself, of course."

"Must be all your experience as a tour guide." Macha said sarcastically.

Hancock snorted. She was never gonna let him live that down. "I never got many complaints. Always leave them smiling, I say."

"Do I look like I'm smiling?" Macha had a burnt book in her hand, her arm tensed, and John had the sneaking suspicion she was contemplating how good her aim was.

"Hey," He threw his hands up in defense. "That applies to you too... when we get there."

"Alright." She said relaxing her arm. "You are lucky I don't throw the book at you."

Oh goddammit. He had walked right into that. She had set him up again. She wasn't even mad, just playing with him so she could say her stupid idiom.

A triumphant smirk spread across her face as she sauntered over to him and whispered in his ear "Ad victorium" before pinching him in the ass in return.

He watched her ass sway in the dim light as she sauntered away, thinking to himself, he had never been so in love.

* * *

John rounded the corner and immediately ducked back, motioning to Matcha. "You saw that right? I'm not losing it?"

Macha crouched low and snuck a peek around the corner of the fallen bookcase. Super mutants. Two of them were in the hall that led to the periodical room of the library. The larger one of the two had a spiked board and... ewwww... was scratching his ass with it.

"Ugh... No, but I wish I hadn't seen it." Two more mutants joined them and they were headed their way. Macha and Hancock had some cover behind the bookshelves and the turrets that lined the place should have the mutants within range soon. "There's only four. We should...oh shit."

The muscle bound form a mutant hound lumbered into view. Well, fuck.. there goes the neighborhood. The great beast halted suddenly and raised it's massive snout to the sky. Thick strings of drool ran down its jowls as it tested the air with broad inhalations. She knew the second it picked up their scent; its neck tensing and chest expanding. Raising her weapon, she focused the hound's head between her sights and depressed the trigger. Too late, the bullet flew into the dog's skull, spraying the floor with brain matter and blood. The hound's alerting howl still reverberated down the halls. Every super mutant in ear shot knew they were here.

"Intruder detected." A protectron was the first to open fire as the mutants flooded the room. Like an angry colony of disturbed ants, the poured from the rooms and charged the turrets now unloading ammo into them.

"OW! DIE! KILL!" One of them screamed as it clubbed a protectron into spare parts. Another robot was engaged with a skirmisher, already missing a limb. Macha paled as even more mutants joined the fray and one of the last turrets exploded in a heap of smoke and shrapnel.

"Go! GO! GO!" Hancock provided cover fire as Macha strafed across the room, trying to pincer the wave of super mutants.

"Catch!" John yelled as he tossed a frag grenade into the cluster of mutants.

Taking aim, Macha fired off a round that lodged itself in the temple of a skirmisher. The mutant fell to the ground life a cinder block, but another took its place almost immediately. More shots rang out, but they were closing ranks and advancing. There were just too many.

Macha cast her eyes around, desperate for a way to turn the tide of battle or retreat. An unexpected solution presented itself above the clustered mutants. Heavy with solid steel rings and copper work, an ornate chandelier swung to and fro from the force of the grenade blasts.

Holding her breathe, Macha took aim at the pivotal point where all the chains intersected. The weakest link. She steadied her sniper rifle and tuned out the rest of the world. The sounds of battle faded around her, becoming a dull roar as she lined up her shot. Nothing outside her scope existed. It was just her and the target.

Waiting till it felt right, Macha pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. The .308 caliber bullets flew straight and true, severing the chain link and sending the 500 pound chandelier crashing into the super mutant horde. Cries of pain and outrage radiated from the mutants as they were crushed beneath the heavy metal fixture. Macha remembered to breathe, pacing herself as she picked the last few survivors off.

* * *

"Security breach neutralized. Visitors may come and go as they please. All employees please return to work." The intercom's voice rang out from the library speakers.

"Damn, love. You are cutthroat. I knew I liked you for a reason." Hancock rubbed his head as he surveyed the damage. "You hardly left any for me."

Macha offered him a sweet smile in response, reloading. "Then keep up. See if they have anything useful."

They slowly picked over the corpses, taking anything of worth. Ammo, grenades, Stims... they loaded themselves up with as much as they could carry.

"Ughhh..." Hancock groaned in loathing as he checked a mutant's body for valuables. "Guess we can't all win out in the looks department, can we? I'd be mad too if I was that ugly."

"I think we may have done more harm than good." Macha replied, cringing over all the damage they had caused. Bullet holes riddled the old frescoes and had torn through chunks of the decorative plaster. Then there was the original one of a kind chandelier built in the 1900s that lay in a broken heap all over the floor.

"Well, we tried. Probably some good reading still here. We should look around." Hancock said, wiping his hands off on his sash.

Further exploration yielded a new bobble head for Macha's ever-growing collection and a few odds and ends of use. She was just coming down the stairs, past the two lion statues, when she saw it. Green. Beautiful emerald green like fresh cut grass. Her splendorous long lost shade of spring and life. Somehow a fraction of it had survived the blast, just clinging to the frame like a stubborn vine. Macha stepped forth, her hand trembling as she wiped the soot from the brass plaque beneath the painting.

_Monet, Claude Nympheas, 1897–1898_

Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn't exactly as she recalled it, but she couldn't tell if it was because she had changed or the painting was damaged. Yet, she would know it anywhere. A flap of ragged canvas hung from the frame and she lovingly picked it up and realigned it with the intact piece. The impressionist water lily floated serenely in the water, just a hint of it's creamy blossom still visible despite the burns.

It wasn't the original. It couldn't be. That was somewhere in California last she had read. Macha felt tears well in her eyes. If it still existed. She wondered then, how many rare and wondrous things were gone forever. The great pyramids. The Eiffel Tower. The Louvre. Big Ben. The Statue of Liberty. Testaments to mankind's ingenuity and ability to create instead of destroy; all dust in one fell swoop. Eons of history wiped from the face of the Earth by a touch of the button. All the blood, sweat, and heart that had been poured into them reduced to nothing more than fallout.

Macha sobbed, overcome with heartache. For herself, her culture, her people. Hancock's arms encircled her and instead of pulling away, she slumped into him, letting herself grieve and feel the loss. Letting him hold her. He said nothing, just clung to her until the tears stopped falling and the sobs that wracked her body subsided.

"What's wrong, love?" He asked into her hair, after she finally stopped shaking. Her fingers clutched at his coat, frantic and too petrified to let go. Like he would slip away if she did. He didn't understand her answer when she finally gave it.

"It's green." Was all Macha uttered, before starting to cry once more.

* * *

"You're back." Daisy said, leaning forward in her eagerness. She didn't notice the puffiness under Macha's eyes or the redness of her nose. "How'd it go at the library? Get rid of those super mutants?"

Macha nodded. "Yeah."

Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks for that. The library deserves to be left in peace. Here's your caps."

Macha just nodded and accepted the caps without even counting them. With a mumbled thanks, she turned to Hancock, squeezing his hand gently.

"I think I'm going to go lay down." She said softly. "I'm tired."

"Yeah. Sure. Use my bed. Make yourself at home." John replied smoothing her hair back. "Get some rest."

A half-hearted smile was his boon and he watched her with concern as she headed towards the statehouse. Only after she had gone inside, did he turn to Daisy and speak. "Daisy, you still have connections with that scavver? That one that had a knack for finding items on the black market?"

Daisy straightened from leaning on her counter, eying Hancock warily. "Yeah. He still runs the odd job for me now and again. Why?"

Hancock explained to her what he was searching for and Daisy sucked in her breath. "That's a tall order. Gonna be a lot of caps. Especially with all the raider attacks. That's IF something like that can be found."

"Don't care about the cost. See if your man can come through." He replied, lightening a cigarette in the dying light of twilight. Christ, he needed a drink and a whole box of mentats. "Make sure he knows if he does, Mayor Hancock will owe him a personal favor."

"Alright, Hancock." Daisy replied. "I'll see what I can do."

Hancock took a few steps away from Daisy's shop and looked up at the statehouse window where Macha would be winding down to sleep. He resolutely flicked the ash off the tip of his cigarette and took a drag. The sooner he finished talking to Whitechapel about raising prices and got that situated, the sooner he could have a vodka/ mentat nightcap and go curl up by her side. At this point, he wasn't certain who needed that more. Him...or her... but he never really was the ponderous type. When an instinct took hold, he acted on it. And right now, everything was telling him that he needed to be by her side, where he belonged.


	13. Cast Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Weatherby Savings and Loans bank
> 
> Relationship: romance
> 
> Spoilers: Last Voyage of the U.S.S. Constitution
> 
> Warning: cursing, some smut and nsfw stuff.. and really bad puns
> 
> Listening to: Caravan Palace-Lone Digger & Rock It For ME
> 
> Florence and the Machine- Ship to Wreck
> 
> Within Temptation-And We Run
> 
> Blue Stone- Come alive ** sexy time song
> 
> Delerium- Underwater ** sexy time song
> 
> Amethystium- Nightfall ** sexy time song ;)

"I always thought I hallucinated that thing." Hancock stated in awe, staring at the ship that had docked on top of the Weatherby Savings and Loans bank.

Well, docked inside it was a more accurate description. The 44-gun frigate had plowed straight into the top floor of the bank and was cosseted inside a ton of bricks and debris like a nesting bird. The USS Constitution was in miraculous shape for the amount of damage the building sustained; leaving Weatherby Savings and Loan little more than a heap of rubble. Someone or something had modified massive rocket boosters and attached them to the tail end of the ship. Every now and again a stray spark of electricity would flare up along the rockets, illuminating the night before it faded from existence.

Macha gaped in disbelief as she took everything in. It was a magnificent disaster. This couldn't be real. She had taken too many chems again. "There's a ship… in the bank. A pirate ship. Tell me you are seeing this too."

"Yeah. Not quite sure what I'm seeing, but I'm seeing it."

Alarms blared as a spotlight targeted them. Macha threw her arm up to block the light from blinding her. "Shit! More raiders?"

No, not raiders, but certainly not what she was expecting. A Mr. Handy unit hovered towards them, talking to itself as it examined them. Macha lowered her weapon when she realized it was just inspecting them with no apparent hostile intentions.

"Target acquired. Scanning. Accessing Pre-War records. Name: Macha Cavanagh. Driver's License: HL498371. Designation. Lawyer." The Mr. Handy that floated over to them, and Macha found herself scrutinized by three shuttered lens. She tensed as the robot pointed at her with one of it's clamps and then directed her attention to the ship. "Ahoy there. Tis providence you have been delivered to us in our hour of need. You have been conscripted into the service of the honorable Captain Ironsides, Commander of the USS Constitution. Report for duty."

"Conscripted?" Macha questioned. "For what?"

"The war effort." The Mr. Handy replied in a clipped tone. "Board the USS Constitution to receive your orders. The captain requests your presence on the bridge. On the double ma'am."

War? Was there yet another war brewing besides the one with the Brotherhood and Institute? Christ on a cracker. "Wait! What war?"

"I'm just the lookout ma'am. Captain Ironsides will relay your orders." With that, the Mr. Handy drifted away, continuing it's hovering patrol.

"Ok." Macha replied, turning to Hancock. "That was weird. Want to check it out?"

The Ghoul shrugged. "Sexy pirate was always going to be my fallback if sexy mayor didn't work out. Why not? Maybe we can commandeer it and I can at least have the ship to go with the backup plan."

"Arrrrrrrrrighty then." She responded in the stereotypical pirate accent.

He started forward then stopped, spinning on his heels and facing Macha. "You get that out of your system?"

"Whatttttttt?" Macha tried to say innocently. The corner of her mouth was losing the struggle to not upturn.

Hancock tapped his foot impatiently on the road. He rumbled. "Macha."

She broke into a wide smile, unable to hold back anymore. "Ok. Ok. Just one joke. You should like this one. What's a horny pirate's worst nightmare?"

Hancock sighed, already ruing this. He pinched his brow between two fingers and shook his head. "I don't know. What?"

"A sunken chest and no booty."

Hancock actually laughed at that one. He scooped her up in his arms, his hands traveling below her belt and squeezing her ass."Well, good thing we don't have to worry about that."

He stared at her for a moment before nodding to the ship. "Who would have ever thought there could be somethin that pretty out here? Present company, excluded of course."

Hancock turned his gaze back to her, and Macha felt her heart melt by the heat of his gaze. He caressed her face gently, tracing her chin and bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

"Flatterer." Macha responded, nipping his thumb. She no longer took heed of his ruinous skin or missing nose. It was his eyes that drew her in. The way he gazed at her awakened something primal and raw within; a caged animal pacing, waiting for its moment to break free. For a brief moment, it strained against its restraints, then fear crept back into her heart, smothering the creature that prowled there. She was too close... too close to falling. Dangerously close to flinging the door to her caged heart open and letting it free. She couldn't do this.. not yet... she wanted to, but couldn't. She shakily let go of the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and kissed his palm, pulling away from him. "Come on, my sexy pirate. Let's jump on this before this ship sails."

Hancock released her, suppressing the regret he felt as she withdrew from him yet again.

* * *

"Our soldier has arrived. I trust the First Mate didn't give you too much trouble?"

Macha just nodded at the giant sentry bot. Her brain couldn't process what she was seeing. It was talking to her with a colonial accent like something out of the 1800s. It even had the hat! An old bicorn rested stoutly on the bot's head, complete with silk ribbon rosette and gold tassel. Of all the things she had seen when stepping out of Vault 111, a pirate ship sailed by robots topped the list of weird. "You still appear to have all your appendages, so all it well. I am Captain Ironsides, commander of the USS Constitution. You come across us at trying times. I'm afraid our ship is moored and in need of repairs. Damn you Weatherby Savings and Loans. I spit at you!"

Mach took an unconscious step back at the sentry bot shook its weapon laded appendage at the bank below them.

"Yeah. Sad thing to see happened to such a lovely ship. What happened? Tide go out? Pirates? Decided to drop in for a loan and engines check out?"

Her attempt at humor was completely lost on the bot. The Captain continued, obviously to her satire. "It vexes me to be left out of the war effort. My cannons have nothing but mole rats and ne'er-do-wells for targets. But enough pleasantries. Our ship requires repairs to conduct it's mission and return to the sea. Consult with the Bosun and Mr. Navigator. They will relay your instructions. Dismissed."

Macha grinned. So, it thought it was a ship's captain, huh? Well, this could be interesting. And it was better than having another rogue bot running around the Commonwealth trying to blow her head off. She snapped a salute and sounded off. "Aye Aye Captain."

"Should you really be encouraging it?" Hancock asked. "I think it may have some screws loose in a very literal sense."

"Relax!" She took him by the frock and pulled him close, pouting. "You're the one who wanted to play pirate. Where's the harm in helping them? Besides, I think his hat may be better than yours. I just can't seem to resist following his orders."

Macha pretended to swoon, the back of her hand resting dramatically on her forehead and eyes fluttering. John chuckled as he caught her in his arms, relenting.

"Hey now. Don't you go talking crazy too." John adjusted his tricorn, tilting it back from his face a bit. His trademark cocky grin brilliant among the azure sky. "His may be flashier, but mine's bigger."

He smirked at her to let her know it wasn't the hat he was referring to and brought her mouth tantalizingly close to his. Within a hair's breath of their lips touching, the ancient ship creaked beneath their feet and gunfire erupted around them.

"What the hell?" Macha cried, ducking and seeking cover. John protectively stepped in front over her, shielding her from any stray bullets.

"Look lively lads. The scavengers approach!" Ironsides boomed. "Man the cannons. Kill them only as a last resort. A few warning shots should scare the rabble off."

The sentry bot gestured to a sparking circuit breaker to his right as the scavengers concentrated fire on the ship. Not knowing what to expect, Macha threw the switch, losing her balance as the ship quaked beneath her feet. She was thrown to the deck as the cannons on the aft side of the vessel roared to life. The boom of cannon fire filled the air and the scent of gunpowder assailed her nostrils. The scavengers scrambled as the ground below erupted in a hail of dirt and debris, the heavy cannon balls taking out entire sections of their cover.

Hancock already had a grenade in his hand, pin dangling from his teeth as he lobbed it into the throng of attackers. The concussive force of the grenades and cannons caused some of the derelict buildings to crumble in on themselves, burying the unfortunate under rubble.

"Do not think this diminishes my resolve!" Ironsides commanded as it's mortar launcher expelled rounds, mowing the more aggressive scavengers down.

Crawling to her knees and bracing her weapon on the deck rail, Macha swiveled her sniper rifle from target to target, taking as many marks down as she could.

Shit! She mentally cursed as she missed a head shot. She shook her dominant hand out, frustrated the it was shaking badly and causing her to lose her targets. She popped a whole tin of orange mentats into her mouth and the world snapped into clarity. Her betraying hands stopped trembling and the world inside her scope rose up to meet her in vivid color. She could see the sweat beading on her prey's forehead, feel the life leave his body as the bullet exited his heart. With a shuddering breath of satisfaction, she claimed life after life, the faces of the dead blending into one. Nate's face. Every dead body sported her ex-spouse's visage; mouths open and gaping. Eyes wide in disbelief and faces smeared with red.

Macha recoiled and jerked her pupil away from the scope, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. What the fuck? A bright spot of blood dripped on the stock of her rifle. Blood. Her blood. She felt the trickle down her lip. _Guess I_ _fell_ _harder than I thought._ She sniffed and mopped the blood dripping from her nose, refocusing on the battle. Only a few scavvers remained, a majority of their squad dead or dying. Macha watched as they turned tail and fled into the dark of the night.

"Well done." Ironside congratulated them. "That should give those cretins pause. I do despise resorting to violence, but they force my hand."

Macha accepted the hand Hancock offered to help her up.

"You're bleeding." He said with concern, wicking the blood that gathered on her bottom lip away with his thumb. "You all right?"

"Yeah." Macha said, using her sleeve to absorb the rest of the blood. "I literally hit the deck when the cannons went off... with my face. Just a minor nose bleed. Let it never be said I do anything half way."

"What do they want?" She addressed Ironsides, swabbing up the last bit of blood and injecting herself with a stimpak.

"The ruffians are insistent on boarding the ship. They have already stolen the guidance chip to our navigation system. I fear we will not be able to repel them for naught much longer. Seventeen times they have continued this futile assault. I bare the burden of every loss, but they will not be civil and see reason. Tis best we get free of this infernal bank and make our vessel seaworthy once more."

"They have attacked you seventeen times?" Macha was incredulous. Why hadn't they mounted a counter attack?

"What.. exactly is your mission?" Hancock asked.

"Why retaliation against China of course. We must continue the war effort since we are the last remaining members of the US military. It is our duty and privilege to sail this fine vessel to its final battle."

"But.. the war is over. It has been for over 200 years."

"That maybe be so, soldier. But duty never ends. Now, if you would please, consult with the Boson. We must be underway soon."

"Yes sir." Macha replied before descending into the bowels of the ship, seeking out the Boson.

"We really aren't helping these insane robots are we?" John questioned, a hand on her shoulder as the stepped off the stairs. "This kind of idiocy takes real dedication."

"Why not? They want carry on the duty of all the fallen navy. At least they are doing something instead of sitting around or killing innocent people. Besides, I find their goals... Admiral-a -ble"

John gave her a resigned smile. "You never know when to quit do you?"

"Like I said, never do anything half way. Someday soon, you may enjoy that particular aspect of my personality." She cast him a sultry wink, emboldened by the rush of chems and adrenaline that coursed through her veins.

"Well then, I can't wait till our relationship crests that wave." Hancock teased back. Delighted at his witticism, Macha took his hand in hers and led him down the lantern lit passages of the vessel.

* * *

Damn that had hurt! Macha sucked on the tip of her index finger, the electrical burn stinging worse than a bullet wound. Her finger sang with pain where the flesh was already puckering, red and angry from the nasty shock she had received. Why was it always the smallest injuries that caused the most misery? She could take a bullet to a limb or her torso and shrug off the agony until the adrenaline wore off. But get a paper cut, splinter, or burn and she felt like no amount stimpaks could make it stop hurting.

"See what happens when you tamper with ancient wiring? There's a reason I don't build much. That and not supposed to operate heavy machinery."

"I got it done, didn't I?" Macha said, referring to her rigging of the ship's power relay coil. "Well, rigged it at least."

"I don't know what you did. A majority of you 'fixing' it was hitting it with a wrench while cursing so much it almost made me blush."

"You know, I used to never curse. Not at all. Not my fault the wasteland has given me such a dirty mouth."

"Well now... when you put it that way, maybe I shouldn't complain. Just how dirty are we talkin?" The smarmy delivery said it all. His mind was clearly in the gutter.

Macha smacked him in the chest and immediately regretted it when her burned finger caught on his lapel. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Hancock shrugged. "Hey. You have your puns...I have my double entendres. It works."

"What if we did punny double entendres?"

"The world already ain't got a prayer with you and me together. Let's at least give em a fighting chance and not unleash that on the Commonwealth. Would take all the sport out of it."

She chuckled as they approached the scavenger camp. A raven haired woman stepped out, her weapon lowered, but finger still resting on the trigger. Macha scanned her weathered face, assessing the level of threat she presented. She woman held the gun with confidence, a couple of her men joining her side and wary of trouble.

"Don't want no trouble." She stated. "Didn't mean to fire on you. Just trying to kill the frickin' robots. How the hell did you get on board? We thought for sure you were gonna be cratered."

"Captain Ironsides invited me on."

"Huh... and to think all this time, all we had to was ask. So, you got to see inside then? All that salvage. What a haul. Just waiting to be stripped and sold."

Macha frowned. She didn't like the way this conversation was going. "Maybe. But it's their ship, so that's none of your business. The Captain says you stole his guidance chip. He wants it back."

"Right. You know what he needs it for? Those rockets. He's nuts! You can't seriously want to help that bolt-for-brains. Screw that robot and come work for us. It's only a matter of time before we overrun them. Then we will be rolling in caps and can live comfortably for the rest of our days."

Macha sighed in disappointment. She had thought maybe she could reason with them, but no. Greed, like war, never changed. "Always comes down to greed, doesn't it?"

"Hey, we will get in there eventually. What it really comes down to whether or not you want to get paid."

"I'm not splitting my share with her." One scavver interjected.

"Shut up, Davies." Their leader hissed. "She's got a free ticket inside, so unless you have any better ideas, you shut your pie hole."

"I need to think." Macha replied, counting heads. Five of them were camped out here, including the leader. There was a guard stationed by a Nuka-Cola machine in the back of the building. He hadn't moved from the doorway since she arrived, but watched her through cautious eyes. That must be where the chip was.

"Whatever. Just don't wait too long or we will crack that ship open ourselves and then you get nothing."

"You really want to help that looney bot over putting food in these people's mouths?" Hancock said as they walked away. He was scowling at her, disapproval written plainly on his face. "It's not a hard choice. Let's destroy that crazy bot and let the scavvers scrap it."

Macha whirled on Hancock, angry at him for even suggesting that. His reaction disappointed her. She thought he was all of the people for the people. Didn't that extend to robots too? "He may have ship for brains, but that doesn't make him demented."

Hancock did a double take. "Did you just-?"

"Yes. I just said a pun in the middle of an argument. Deal with it."

"You are not even taking this seriously, are you? These are peoples' lives Macha."

"Well, then they should worry about those lives and not attack people just because they want their shit! He's just defending his crew. Would you feel differently if it was a bunch of Ghouls instead of robots? What about settlers? The crew was there first, John. They may not be alive by our definition, but they have a right to live in peace just like everyone else. And Ironsides is honorable. The scavvers have attacked seventeen times! He laments the loss of life but only does it to defend his people. Wouldn't you do the same for Goodneighbor? All your citizens? Wouldn't you do anything to protect and keep them safe? Isn't that the whole reason you became John Hancock?"

Hancock was taken aback by the venom in her voice. "Of course I would defend my people to the bitter end. You know I killed Vic for what he did to those drifters. But they are robots. They are not alive. The parts on that ship could feed those scavengers' families for months. Macha, this is crazy."

"All I heard coming from that woman's mouth was greed." Macha continued. "They stole things from the ship. They could scavenge elsewhere. The Commonwealth is huge! They didn't once mention feeding their poor children or anything along that line. All the want is an easy hit to be set for life. And Ironsides IS alive. He chose a name for himself. Set goals. Banded together a crew to work towards those ends. That denotes sentience. No, sorry. The scavengers are no different than raiders by my definition. I'm not going to attack them, but I am getting that chip back."

"You are going to steal it?" Hancock's eyes narrowed in anger. "I thought such thieving was below us."

"Yeah, well funny thing about that. You can't steal what's already been stolen. I'm just getting their property back FROM thieves to the rightful owners. If you don't want to help, then fine. Stay here. I'll do it by myself!"

Her mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes flashing with fury. He knew he could not change her mind. Once she made a choice, she would see it through. Like she had said earlier. She never did things half way. He didn't agree with her, but he wouldn't let her do this alone.

"Fine."He snarled. "It's your call. We do it your way."

* * *

Macha tired not to let her temper translate to her footfalls as she crept around the building the scavvers were using as a base. A frag mine beeped furiously at her feet, echoing her temperament as she punched the disarm button with excessive force. She felt like the mine; explosive and rigged to off at any moment. She almost wished the scavengers caught her stealing the chip back so she would have a reason to shoot someone.

"Macha." As she reached for the mine, a voice spoke lovingly in her ear. She felt the breath tickle her ear lobe, his presence looming over her. It set the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up.

Macha jumped, fumbling for her weapon, fearing she had been caught. Mine forgotten, she scanned the shadows and found... nothing. There was nothing at all.

 _Jumping at fucking shadows_. Macha thought as she swept her hand across her face, squeezing her eyes shut and reopening them. She knew whose voice that had been and that was impossible. He was rotting in the ground near Vault 111.

"Fucking chems." She hissed, shaking her head. This was one bad trip. Exhaling and gathering her wits, she slowly creaked the back door open and peered around the corner. That one lone merc was still leaning against the door jam, sipping a Nuka-Cola. With painstaking slowness, she pushed the door open, cringing when the rusty hinges creaked a bit in protest. After a few tense moments to make sure the guard wasn't paying attention, she scanned the room, searching for the most obvious place the chip was stored.

There was an overturned desk, a broken chair and some filing cabinets resting against the wall near the door. Macha doubted it was in the desk... which meant it was likely in the metal filing cabinet. The kinda that shrieked like a demon lose from hell no matter how carefully you opened it. And that was before two hundred years of exposure to the elements. Wonderful. _How many caps you want to bet that it's in the top drawer too?_ Macha scowled. This was not improving her mood.

Checking on the guard again, she quickly darted behind the desk, heart hammering in her ears. She waited, listening for any sound of alarm before peeking her head over the desk. The merc was still reclining in the doorway, none the wiser to her presence. Keeping her movements slow and deliberate, Macha pulled at the drawer from its bottom, trying to nudge it open. There was a horrifying moment when she thought it may be locked, but after working her fingers under the edge -biting back a hiss as her burnt finger seemed to come in contact with every sharp edge the drawer had- she finally managed to work it open a few inches without too much noise.

She popped up and took a quick glance into the drawer, ducking back down just as fast. Yeah, it was in there alright, and a bit bigger than she had anticipated. She was going to have to get the drawer open enough to get her hand in there. Gritting her teeth, Macha began the nerve grating process of opening the drawer inch by inch while praying the merc didn't hear her or simply decide to turn around. Her jaw was beginning to ache by the time she was successful.

Eyes still on the guard, she snaked her hand in and snatched the chip. There wasn't time to close the drawer. She just needed to get as much distance between them as possible before someone noticed. She crept across the room and closed the door silently behind her.

"Hah!" Macha resounded in quiet victory, tossing the chip into the air and catching it in her hand before pocketing it. Mission successful, and all without anyone getting-... oh shit. Macha looked down at the distinctive crunching noise her boot made as she took a step forward...right onto the frag mine she had disarmed and left there early. Except, it certainly wasn't disarmed now. The warning light glowed a florescent orange, triggered by the toe of her boot hitting the arming mechanism. It began steadily beeping.

Stupid! Utterly amazingly stupid! Why didn't she pick it up? How did she forget it was there? Because she had heard Nate's voice whispered in her ear, that's why. Now she had ten seconds.. just ten measly seconds to clear the mine before it blew her leg off. Macha launched herself forward, the explosion that followed shortly after propelling her further into the heaps of trash. It knocked the wind from her lungs and she rolled into a ball.

The scavengers were mobilizing, there wasn't time to think, feel, or plan. Her ears rang as she stumbled to her feet and just moved.

"Macha?!" John cried, fear pitching his voice higher than normal as he moved from his position.

"I'm fine! Move! Back to the ship!" She sprinted for the dinghy the crew had lowered for them. They both made it onto the small craft just as the scavengers came around the houses and opened fire. Ducking low in the boat, the craft docked onto the ship's main deck.

The raven haired woman snarled at them from below. "You've made your choice. Fucking die with the rest of them!" She shouted before gathering her men up and retreating back to their base. Great. They were going to come in force now and because of her blunder, they had even less time to prepare.

"What happened?" Hancock asked as they boarded the Constitution. His features flitted from anger to concern. "Macha, you are hit!"

"Huh?" Macha looked down to find she was trailing blood down her torso and leg. A deep gash from shrapnel had got around her armor and sliced her open just under her floating rib. Most of her left pant leg was shredded, as was her calf and shin. Pieces of metal were embedded in her leg, blood pouring into the cuff of her boot. She hadn't even felt it. Her shirt was stained red, the color fading into an ombre effect as it spread across her pants and torso. She put her palm to her side and it came away slick and painted in her life's blood. "I'm fine. I got it."

"That looks pretty bad. Let me look." Hancock reached for the edge of her shirt to pull it up, but Macha caught his hand, smearing his wrist with gore.

"I'm. Fine." She reiterated, pushing his hand away. "It doesn't even hurt. It just seems worse than it is."

John's lipless mouth pressed into a stern line of reproach, but he nodded and let her administer several stimpaks and pick some of the bigger chucks of metal from her leg. The ebb of blood was staunched in moments and she wiped her bloody hands on her jeans without much thought. Hancock frowned the whole time. The damage was extensive and she was just pretending it didn't happen. That she hadn't almost lost a limb. His frown deepened when she pulled a bottle of buffout from her back pack and downed a handful of pills. No wonder she didn't feel the pain.

"Alright! Let's get this show on the road." She said to the navigator, retrieving the chip from her pocket.

* * *

"How many times are you planning on hurting yourself today?"

"Exactly seven. I've got it all planned and mapped out. Why? Worried about our stimpak supplies? We have plenty. I calculated that too." Macha was sucking on her thumb that was sporting yet another burn from her scarcely successful installation of the of FLL3 turbopump bearings they had gleaned from the Covega assembly plant. Ironside had tasked them with that one final mission before the vessel could embark on it's voyage.

Macha primed the pump, satisfied when the ready light flicked from yellow to green and closed the panel.

"No, I'm worried about you. I care about you, after all. I know we take risks everyday we are out here, but you are being reckless."

Macha ceased fiddling with the dials on the pump and turned to face Hancock. His black eyes were little more than pinpricks of light in the shadows of the captain's quarters. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "I'm just off my game today. Cut me some slack. I'm human and I fuck up from time to time."

"It's not that..." Hancock removed his hat and ran his hand over his scarred head. Macha suddenly had a mental image of him before he was a Ghoul, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration and exasperation. He replaced his hat and gestured emphatically to her. "You..you're the best thing I got. Every day we see one more sunrise means we must have done something right. I just...don't... I don't want-"

Macha stopped him from stumbling over his words with a kiss. A few hours ago, they had been arguing, at each others' throats, and here she was, back in his embrace. Hancock crushed his body against hers, desperate to taste her, to make sure she was warm and alive in his arms and not the product of a jet flashback. After seeing all that blood, soaking into her shirt and down her leg; he hadn't felt that kind of fear in a long long time. He had long ago stopped caring about his own safety and health, but to witness her do the same disturbed him deeply. Why wouldn't she just let him help her? He knew she was tough, but that's what he was here for. To watch her back and assist when things got rough. She was still keeping him at a distance.

"Ow." Her lips mumbled still pressed against his. He immediately loosened his grip on her waist, checking her over to make sure he hadn't reopened any wounds. "Still kinda sore."

"Sorry." He whispered, cupping her face and gazing at her sternly. "But you have met your quota for the day. No more getting hurt."

"Well, I think I technically still have one more to go, but aye, aye Captain." She replied, her lips grazing his own in tender endearment.

Their kiss was interrupted- yet again- by the ship shifting. Macha and John were thrown against the door to the cabin.

"Owwwwwwwwwwwww. Well, that was injury number seven. Now I'm done." Macha hissed, cradling her head where it had slammed into the heavy oak door. "Now what? He's not taking off already is he?"

"He better not be." Hancock growled. "I'd rather not be forced to swim back to shore. Wasn't planning on taking a bath today."

John cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he listened. After a moment, he knew what had rocked the boat. "Gunfire."

* * *

"Fire the cannons!" Ironside ordered as Macha threw the circuit breaker. She ducked at the cannonballs soared into the scavenger group that was trying to flank them. Their cries of pain were still audible, despite the hail of gunfire.

"Macha!" John hollered above the din of battle. "They are on the lower decks!"

"Captain! I'm going below decks to contain them!" Macha didn't wait for an answer as she threw up the hatch to the lower decks and ran down the stairs. A bullet lodged itself into the wooden railing within three inches from her face. Cursing, she took cover behind a stack of crates, signaling Hancock to move as she covered him.

"Intruder!" A protectron sounded the alarm as it fired it's blasters at the onslaught of scavengers. The turrets that lined the walkways started to spin, spewing forth a curtain of bullets that took out much of the first wave and allowed Macha to pick off the few survivors left. As grim as it was, the bodies stacked up around the staircase to their deck and Macha rushed forward, using the natural barricade to snipe the invaders as they ascended the stair case.

"I'm going to k-" The man never got to finish his sentence as the bullet both entered and exited his head, dropping him to the floor. Macha panted, still behind cover, listening for any further movement or indication the enemy was still around. After a few tense moments, she signaled John, who shrugged.

"All clear?" He shouted down to the lower deck. The strained robotic voice of a protectron respond. "All clear."

Both Hancock and Macha sighed in relief and set about the gruesome task of looting the bodies before seeking out Ironside on the top deck.

"Gods be good, the scavenger assault has been broken. All hands prepare for launch." The Captain rolled about on his treads, ordering the remaining robotic crew to varying tasks.

"Congratulations Captain." Macha supplied. "I'm excited to see your maiden voyage."

"There is one thing though. You have done so much, I am loathe to ask, but we need power from the auxiliary generator to commence or voyage." His turreted arm pointed to a collapsing coffee shop nearby. There was still a sign in faded paint that advertised hot coffee to the public, sitting by the front door. Macha's mouth watered. What she wouldn't give for a fresh cup of coffee.

"Always one more thing with you guys." Macha mumbled through gritted teeth, her eye twitching. She was really starting to hurt now. The drugs she had taken earlier were wearing off. Her shirt and pants where still covered in drying blood, causing her to reek more than normal, and the first rays of dawn were just creeping over the horizon, signaling yet another sleep deprived day.

"I admire your pluck. Here is your reward. Use it well and godspeed."

Macha wasn't ready when the sentry bot handed her a weapon that was essentially a mini hand cannon. She nearly dropped on her foot. Grunting, she just kind of propped it up on her hip until she felt the twinge of her earlier injuries remind her that was unwise.

"Here. That's too much. Let me carry some of that." Hancock held out his hands.

Macha rewarded him with a grateful smile as he took the cumbersome weapon off her hands. "Thank you."

"No, thank YOU." He flashed her a debonaire grin. He posed with the weapon, looking like the badass he was. She had to admit, it was hot. His coat tails were bellowing behind him in the breeze.. the smoke and fire from the recent battle creating the perfect backdrop. Impractical. But hot. "Kinda completes the sexy pirate king esthetic, doesn't it?"

"Well, let's hope you've got the balls to use it." Macha nodded her head towards the pile of solid iron cannon balls the weapon used as ammo.

Hancock's countenance faltered a bit when he saw the size of the ammo. Where would he even put those? His pockets? "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Let's see, they are about 4 inches in diameter and probably weigh about nine pounds a piece. So...yeah.. have fun with that." Macha calculated as they disembarked.

"Alright. The next time we are out and about in power armor," John said, following her. "We are bringing a really big bag and gathering as many of those we can find."

The dingy lowered them to the ground and they sauntered to the coffee shop that housed the auxiliary generator.

"Yes. Because we commonly find cannon balls amongst all the junk in the Commonwealth." Macha 's sarcastic comment was punctuated by her eyes rolling.

After a few flights of stairs, they came to the switch that controlled the generator. The Captain was still giving orders to his crew as Macha flipped the switch.

The nearby radio picked up Ironsides' words, broadcasting them to the couple as they watched with anticipation.

"Commencing final count down in...three."

Hancock put his arm around Macha's shoulder, hugging her close to him as they stood on the roof. It was a perfect vantage point to watch the launch. They had did it. And this was going to make everything that happened last night so worth it.

"Two."

Macha slipped her arm around Hancock's waist, gazing up at him as the sun finally crested the horizon. The engines rumbled and ignited the rockets along the ship's hull.

"One."

Both Macha and Hancock leaned into one another and kissed, the rays of the rising sun framing their silhouettes in shining golden light. They shared a private smile as the air around them vibrated from the ship's launch and the vessel took to the skies.

"We are away!" Ironside's voice proclaimed over the radio through some mild static.

Macha and John regarded the spectacle before them. It was truly magnificent; unlike anything Macha had ever seen. The entire Commonwealth must be watching the Constitution's maiden voyage and they had front row seats. The mighty rockets fired again, great jets of flame licking the tops of the buildings as the ship gained altitude and stabilized itself. It sailed like a mystical beast into the pink clouds: Pegasus taking flight, the dew from the morning humidity glistening like jewels off the sails and ropes.

Macha head tilted to side as she followed its trajectory. And tilted more.. and more...and... that ...that didn't seem right. At that speed and angle they were gonna... shit. Fuck. Oh Goddammit.

Breaking her embrace with John, Macha started jumping up and down, flailing her arms and shouting. "Captain Ironsides! Turn left! LEFTTTTTTTTTTTT!"

She cupped her hands over her mouth and tried again. "PORTTTTTTTTTTTTT! IF YOU DON'T TURN THE SHIP PORTSIDE YOU ARE GOING TO-!"

It was too late. Macha witnessed the event in dismay as the ship plowed into a skyscraper, knocking the top half of the building into the streets below and firmly lodging the ship into yet another superstructure.

"Crash." Macha said as she facepalmed. All that work. For nothing. All that ammo, bleeding, sneaking, and killing, and they were almost right back where they started. Macha wanted to cry or scream. Or possibly both simultaneously.

"We did it! Victory at last!" Ironside chirped, seemingly ecstatic with the results. "We are a quarter fathom closer to the ocean. In a mere century, we will make it to the ocean!"

"Well, at least we know where we can find more cannonballs." John offered, unhelpfully. She didn't have to turn around or remove her face from her palm to know he wore an -I told you so- expression on his face.

"I hate you so much right now." She muttered into her hand as she drew her .38 revolver and shot a hole clean through the radio to silence the 'huzzahs' as the robots cheered.

* * *

Hancock's gaze traced Macha's finger as she pushed the elevator button for the two hundredth time in rapid succession. She was pissed and had insisted on going back to the Constitution, whether to scream at the crazy bots or destroy them, he wasn't quite certain. The broken elevator call button made a warbled and pathetic ding every time her burnt digit hammered it home. It was getting annoying.

"That doesn't make it arrive any faster." He pointed out. "Ease up, will you? Or I'm going to being hearing that damn noise in my sleep for days to come."

Macha's head rotated haltingly towards him and she very deliberately and defiantly pushed the button one more time, all while staring him in the eyes, eyebrows raised, as if challenging him to stop her.

He chuckled as he lit a cigarette. It had been a long night. They were both exhausted and it really wasn't worth fighting over. He had heard enough of her grumbling to herself on the trip over here. Let her have her tiny rebellion. It was her way of hashing out her frustrations after this failure of a night.

The elevator finally opened and they entered, the heavy doors slamming shut before them. Macha waited a whole thirty seconds before beginning to push the UP button repeatedly. He was very proud of her for restraining herself that long. "What are you gonna do if that breaks and we get stuck in here?"

She pointed towards the maintenance hatch in the roof of the elevator. "You are gonna give me a boost and we will climb out if we have to. Then climb down if we have to, as well."

"Sure. While we are at it, let's just jump off the roof and fly down." He captured his hand in hers, and kissed her injured finger. "As much as I would love any excuse to admire and feel up your ass, let's just wait for the doors to open on their own, ok?"

"Fine." She groused, but her features mellowed and she laced her fingers with his as the elevator continued to climb. With a jerky halt, the doors finally opened and they stepped onto the new landing site for the Constitution.

The wind blew fiercely and Hancock gave up on his cigarette, tossing off the side of the roof. He tucked his tricorn under his arm and peered over the edge, wind whistling in his ear canals. It was a long way down.

"Damn." He shouted at Macha, raising his voice in competition with the wind. "You could drop a bullet from up here and kill someone."

"Actually," She responded. "The terminal velocity of a free falling bullet is only about 30 miles per hour andddddd I went egghead again and you don't really care."

Hancock wiped the baffled expression from his face. "There's those big words again."

"It wouldn't work." She clarified. "You'd need an object of bigger mass that would create more drag. A bigger object to drop... would make more of an impact."

"So, like a cannon ball?" He inquired, checking to see if he could make out any raiders of super mutants below to test out his theory. This science shit was turning out to be fascinating.

Sighing, Macha picked her way over the debris and stomped over to the sentry bot that was proudly overlooking the Commonwealth.

"Our hero returns." He stated, rotating on his treads to face her. "What a glorious success. True the mission is not quite complete. But one cannot deny our progress."

"Progress!" Macha shrieked. "Not two minutes after launching, you crashed the ship.. AGAIN!"

"Not to worry, I wager in two or three more launches we should reach the ocean. My circuits tremble in excitement."

"What?! You are going to launch the ship again!? You are mad! There's no way the ship will survive that." He really was nuts and she was demented for helping. This whole thing had been nothing more than an exercise in futility. She hadn't changed anything. Hadn't made a difference except in killing a whole group of people. She had been so sure she was doing the right thing in helping the captain, but now... all those people.. was it really worth the little ground they had gained?

"Oh ye of little faith. Sometimes battles are won by inches, not by miles. With the courage and support of my crew, our eventual triumph is assured. But I digress. In recognition of your courageous role in this, I hereby promote you to the role of Honorary Lieutenant. And being that I.. well, cannot fit below decks, I bestow upon you the captain's quarters, as well."

Macha was only one rash decision away from unloading an entire clip of ammo into the robot's face, when he reached behind him and produced a hat not too unlike his own. He dropped it on her head and gave her a nod of satisfaction. "Wear it well, Lieutenant. You earned it. Now, you have been working diligently all night. Seek some respite in my quarters. My crew and I will keep watch. It has been an honor to serve with you. Three cheers for our new Lieutenant."

"Hip, hip, hooray!"

"Hip, hip, hooray!"

"Hip, hip, hooray!"

Hancock gave Macha a slow clap as the anger drained from her face and she looked around, perplexed by the crew's cheering. It would seem, she had made the right choice after all and it was about time she got some recognition. She worked her ass off for the people of the Commonwealth and so far had received very little in return other than new obstacles thrown in her path. It was a thankless job and he could see it drag her down every damn time Preston opened his mouth and sent her out on some dangerous task. She went anyways, rarely complaining. Always willing to help. Always wanting to believe in the best of people. That was his Macha.

Gradually, her haggard face broke into a grin, all the doubt and self flagellation fading from view, as she swept the hat off her head with flourish and bowed.

* * *

"Hey, Emperor. Love the outfit."

Macha cast Hancock THE LOOK before returning to scrubbing her blood stained clothes. She was bent over a bucket in nothing but her bra and underwear, using a piece of grating she had scavenged from the captain's quarters to as a washboard, endeavoring to scour the dried blood from her shirt and what was left of her pants. "You know, instead of ogling me, you could help! Fuck it's cold in here."

The bar of soap she was using had turned pink form her blood, along with the water in the bucket. Pink bubbles threatened to slosh on the floor as she vigorously scrubbed.

"Now, where's the fun in that? And I'm not ogling.. I'm appreciating. There's a difference." He had kicked back in a chair and was flipping through the U.S. Covert Operations Manuel they had discovered in the cabin. Or at least, he was... until she had taken her clothes off. Now, he seemed more interested in checking other things out. "That's a good look for you."

Macha stood and wrung out her shirt, draping it over the back another chair. It, along with her pants were drip drying onto the hard wood floor. She shivered and hugged her arms close to her body, prickles of gooseflesh dimpling her arms. Hancock's brow furrowed. Her arm was still bandaged. Hadn't that healed yet? Then his gaze caught her chilled nipples poking through the fabric of her bra and he lost focus.

"Yeah?" She gestured to the manual, squinting to read the title. "Is that what the Guide to Urban Camouflage suggests? Running around half naked and freezing your ass off?"

Hancock closed the manual and laid it aside, standing. He shrugged of his coat and tossed it around her shoulders.

"Here." He replied, doing his best not to look down.. and failing. "You can use this in the meantime. I can't have that lovely ass of yours falling off. Just, try not to perform any of you usual antics in it. Like getting shot or blown up. It's got enough holes in it."

"No promises." Macha twirled in the coat, which was just a bit too big for her. The sleeves overtook her wrists, resting more mid hand then above them. And the hem of the jacket came about mid calf on her. Inspired, she grabbed her new Lieutenant's hat and donned it for him. "How do I look?"

Hancock suppressed a laugh. The hat was also too big, making it appear like she was being devoured by clothing. It was both silly and sexy, with inviting flashes of her creamy exposed thighs, breasts, and neck as she moved. "Ridiculously beautiful."

"I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult." She frowned at him in warning, her features advising him which option was the correct one.

John never was very good at following directions. "Both."

She huffed, seeming indignant. "You are just jealous because my hat is better than yours." She turned and regarded her image in the captain's shaving mirror. "I'm going to rock this all over the Commonwealth."

"And catch the attention of every sniper in a five mile radius in the meantime." He reminded her.

A sly grin pervaded her features. "Not if I snipe them first. Besides, what's wrong with catching attention? I certainly caught yours, didn't I? Not afraid of a little competition are you?"

"Not from your hat or any would be suitor of yours in the Commonwealth." He growled, coiling his arms around her waist and claiming her mouth with his. He reveled in the heat of her nearly naked body as it seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt, into his skin and mind. Fuck , he wanted her. Nothing would please him more to see her gasping, arching her back as his name fell from her lips, her fingers finding purchase in his back as he brought her to completion.

He continued kissing her, his right hand searching along the back of his jacket for a specific point. Little further.. ah there. With expertly dexterous fingers and a series of small gestures, he felt the hooks yield with a gratifying snap of elastic. Macha stopped kissing him and gazed at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Did... did you just unhook my bra through your jacket?" Her eyes were unbelieving. This thing was heavy leather.. how in the fuck had he done that?

"What? I've never known any self respecting pirate to let a treasure chest that lovely go unopened."

"And yet I'm the one forced to do all the lock picking in this relationship."

He shrugged and smirked. "We all have our specialties. Mine just doesn't involve locks."

Helping her shrug off first one shoulder of his coat then the other, the bra soon found itself on a maiden voyage of its own. It sailed across the room and ended up dangling from the dining table. His shirt soon followed suit, resting on top of a dusty wine bottle. Pulling the coat around them both to keep warm, they resumed their sultry kissing.

His fingers traveled down the length of her neck, down her clavicle, exploring every curve of her exposed flesh. He ran his finger tips over her hard nipples, gently tugging and circling them until they nearly ached with sensitivity. John groaned as she pushed him back on the captain's bed, straddling him, insisting on doing some exploration of her own. Only the fabric of her panties and his trousers kept their most intimate areas from touching and he could feel her soft mound brush against his cock as she shifted her weight.

Her fingers caressed his marred skin, gently and tentative at first, then growing bolder and more assured as she followed the path of destruction the irradiated drug had wrought. He leaned back, marveling at her beauty as she worked through their differences; letting her touch and examine him at her own pace.

"Does it.. hurt?" She asked quietly after several minutes, stroking an especially deep wound that twisted from his navel under his left rib cage.

"Only when I laugh."

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and gazed at him with false sympathy. "Bad move with me then. You are gonna be in pain all the time."

"I already am, though not from the laughter."

She hit him in the arm, her eyes alight with mischief. God damn, she was beautiful when she smiled.

"Mainly because of that." He rubbed his arm where she had smacked him. "You hit hard. Easy on the guns, love. Gotta keep my Ghoulish figure in top shape."

"For who?"

"You, of course. And me. Let's face it. I'm just too damn sexy to not flaunt it."

"I'll confess to nothing." She chuckled as he pulled the rubber band from her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders and frame her face. Their lips met once more as he gently lowered her to the bed, laying beside her, propped up on his elbow.

"My turn." He whispered as he nuzzled her neck.

Macha held her breath as he took his time in turn, canvassing her body with his hands. Her breasts and face flushed rouge with excitement, she found herself rising up to meet his touch, anticipating it and longing for each brush of his skin on hers. Down and down his fingers traveled, until they came to rest at the elastic of her panties. One single digit barely slipped under the hem of her underwear, just outlining the dent the elastic has made in her skin; waiting. Asking without the utterance of a single word.

Macha felt a sudden wave of panic. If they did this.. this diminutive step.. it would be going down a road she wasn't sure she was ready for. Yes, she wanted this.. but she was terrified. Terrified to be that close to someone again. To open herself up to the possibility of pain and loss when she was still reeling from her last encounter. To be vulnerable and intimate with him in every way; no cover to hide behind or walls to shield her. Her heart ricocheted off her ribcage and lungs and she grabbed his hand. "I can't... I'm sorry."

"I'm not gonna ask you for anything you ain't willing to give. You do so much and get so little in return. Just let me take care of you for once. That's all. Trust me. "

She licked her lips and gazed at him. _Trust me._ She did trust him, with everything she had. Her grip relaxed, nodding slightly at him, she let go and cast off the fear that had claimed her. She didn't belong to it anymore. She belonged to him.

He started tortuously slow, stroking her just over her underwear. The fabric just added another layer of delicious friction; a forbidden barrier between them begging to be stripped away.

Macha closed her eyes, her breath already ragged. John watched her face as she bit her bottom lip, each stroke eliciting a change in her features and breathing pattern that aroused him to no end. She was shaking, but not from the cold. The first tiny gasp that escaped her lips almost drove him mad.

Her underwear was gone in a whisper and his course fingers dipped into her molten core. Christ, she was fucking wet. Her sex radiated heat as his thumb encircled her clit, skillfully drawing gasps and shudders from her. He grinned as one of her free hands began to twist the sheets into a knot and her hips involuntary bucked as he continued to conduct the symphony that was her body. This was his kind of music and he played her like a virtuoso. The adagio first, then picking up tempo and varying the intervals until her toes curled. This was what he wanted; her undone before him. Every bit of control gone, decorum and demureness forgotten. He wanted her to sing just for him. The perfect crescendo.

Macha peered at him through slitted eyes. Fuck ,the texture of his fingers was incredible. Both rough and gentle at the same time, a perfect juxtaposition of contrast that seemed to know exactly how to manipulate her and apply pressure. Each thrust made her body involuntarily twitch. She couldn't... she was going to.. oh god.

"Oh.. Sh-!" Hancock's mouth on hers stifled her cry as her body spasmed, her sex tightly clenching his fingers as he continued his relentless assault on her body. A keening whimper escaped their locked lips, as she returned his kiss with equal passion, gasping and unable to breathe; drowning in him. Her back arched until she thought she would break in two and she grabbed his hand to hinder his movement.

They came apart, each panting and looking at each other with something akin to wonder. His eyes were dark with desire, a satisfied smirk forming on his face. "What?"

"Too.. much." She panted, dropping her head back. "Too ...sensitive. No.. more."

"You sure?" He asked, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her clit once more. She flinched away with a moan, digging her nails into his wrist in an effort to halt him. "I do believe I said I always leave them smillin'. I don't see a smile."

"That's cause ...I can't ...feel... my face." Or her body.. or her brain. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Holy shit. She couldn't move. She was a quivering mess; completely and utterly spent. What had he done to her? "I'm ...done."

John tutted at her, her body shuddering as he leisurely withdrew his fingers from her. "And just when we were just getting started."

He never took his eyes off of hers as he brought his fingers to his mouth. They glistened with her juices and he licked them, tasting her without reservation. Macha felt the heat rise to her cheeks at the provocative gesture, embarrassed and aroused simultaneously. Nate would have never dared do something like that. Nor, would he ever have thought to do what Hancock did next.

He leaned over and kissed Macha. Her scent still lingered on his lips as he shared her sweetness. Their tongues moved in unison, each partaking in the sensation. When he pulled back, he was smiling, and smoothed a piece of stray hair from her forehead in a tender caress.

"Ad victoriam." He whispered.

She didn't have any left strength to hit him.

* * *

Fahrenheit muscled her way through the crowd of drifters, roughly pushing them aside. "Outta the way. What's going on here?"

Two armed guards of the Neighborhood Watch hovered over the body of a local drifter. Fahrenheit analyzed the scene before her. The rouge lamps of the Memory Den highlighted the fresh blood that splattered the road. Slumped over, a sandy blonde man lay dead in the gutter. Ammo shells were overtaken by the spreading pool of blood that leaked from the many wounds in the body, the man's plaid shirt in tatters that hung from his torso.

Fahrenheit recognized the corpse. Sammy, one of the workers that maintained the electrical facilities of the town. Drunkard, braggart and junkie. She felt no remorse at his passing. He was just a minor player in the game. But the circumstances of his death were unusual. The Watch was present to keep the populace orderly as well as provide protection from the occasional raider or super mutant attack. Sporting Tommy guns, the threat of violence was generally enough to dissuade people from pushing them to open fire. Everyone in town knew not to tempt the Watch to use lethal force and those that didn't generally didn't live long enough to get a second chance to learn that lesson. Sammy had lived in Goodneighbor for a long while. He should have known better, even drunk and stoned.

One of the Watch- a Ghoul Fahrenheit knew as Frank- gave her a grim look to accompany his nod of acknowledgment. His voice was gravely, and held a surprising twinge of sadness as he spoke. "It's Sammy. He was… replaced .. with this synth. He stopped doing chems, stopped drinking, even cheating on his wife. Christ. What am I gonna tell his mother?"

The crowd murmured in dismay, each person looking suspiciously among the crowd. How many more synths were there, hiding in plain sight? How long until the Institute snatched you, or someone you loved, and replaced them? Was this the start of an invasion? Was the Institute responsible for their resources dwindling and the price of basic supplies going up. Were they preparing to attack?

"Where's Hancock?" Someone from the crowd cried.

"Yeah!" Another drifter chimed in. "Why isn't he here?"

"He left us!" A panicked woman shrieked. "He must have known they were coming! So he abandoned us!"

"How do we know he isn't working for the Institute? The paper from Diamond City said his brother's a synth! Maybe he's been setting us up this whole time!"

General dissonance resounded among the gatherers, their voices pitched high in panic and confusion. Hands reached for weapons, families held each other. In the distance, she could hear the lone wail of a child. Fahrenheit scowled. This was getting out of hand. Fast.

"Enough!" Fahrenheit boomed. The crowd stilled, all eyes on the intimidating woman as their voices faded and silence replaced their clamor. "I know you are scared, but Hancock has never done anything but protect us. He banded us together, made us strong. He made this place a haven for the lost and unwelcome and this is how you repay him?"

"What about the raiders?" A young woman yelled towards the back of the group. "I can't hardly feed my babes! When's the Mayor gonna do something about that?"

"They cut my wages! Can't even afford a drink!"

"I heard he's run off with some floozy. Having a good time while we suffer!"

"Yeah!"

"The raiders," Fahrenheit shouted above them. "Are being dealt with. Go back to your homes keep an eye on your loved ones! Report any suspicious behavior to the Watch. I'm instilling a curfew! Anyone caught on the street after ten will be suspected of being a synth and be questioned very thoroughly by my boys. It will not be pleasant. Now go home!"

She nodded to the few Watch members standing around. Taking her queue, they begin herding the drifters away from the grisly scene, fingers on the triggers, just in case. Fahrenheit ran her hand through her hair. Hancock needed to come back and soon. She had just imparted a curfew in a town known for living free. This would cause more conflict, but she needed to get a hold on this synth situation before people panicked.

"Goddammit. Where are you John?"' She hissed. Signaling some of her personal retinue to dispose of the corpse, she reminded herself to ask for a very hefty raise once Hancock returned.


	14. Dissent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Sanctuary Hills & Goodneighbor
> 
> Warning: cursing,
> 
> Listening to: Only You- Hurts
> 
> This Is Gonna Hurt- Sixx AM
> 
> Hero & Monster- Skillet
> 
> Deceiver- Streams of Passion
> 
> Set The World on Fire- Symphony X
> 
> Just to get High- Nickleback

"So then, Captain Ironsides gave the order and the ship rose in the air like this..this..-how would you describe it Hancock?"

Mach looked at him expectantly as she tried to explicate the experience to Codsworth. He groaned, using a finger to push the tip of his tricorn above his brow line so he could see her. A sharp stab of pain greeted him as the sunlight met his eyes and he retreated further into the shade of the patio table's umbrella. This was too much sunshine and fresh air for his liking. He wanted to go back inside their dark home and sleep away his hang over, not be out here reliving that crazy night.

"Like a flying pirate ship with rockets." He offered, finishing off his beer. Macha tsked at him in annoyance and pushed his feet off the patio table, nearly causing him to tumble out of the chair he was reclining in. He grabbed the arm rest to steady himself, pursing his lips in a mocking kiss in her general direction.

"You are so not helpful. And keep your feet off my furniture. I worked hard to make that and you are scratching it up with your boots."

"That's what I'm here for. Handsome and helpful all in one package. How'd you ever get so lucky?"

"I ask myself that every day." She flatlined.

Hancock stood and stretched, grabbing his beer bottle and kissed her on the neck. "Gonna get another longneck. Want one?"

She nodded and continued her conversation with the mechanical butler. "I wish you could have seen it Codsworth. Those robots came together and were trying to take the fight to the enemy. It was amazing. And they gave me this really bitching hat!"

Macha pointed to the Lieutenants hat still resting on her brow. It was Hancock's turn to roll his eyes. She had put that damn thing on just to tell the story of that night on the USS Constitution, and it bobbed on her head with every animated gesture she made. At least she had taken his advice and didn't wear it while traveling the Commonwealth. Instead, it had an honorary spot on the living room shelf and he had to see it every fucking time he walked into their abode.

"Ah yes, madam. That hat is indeed... lovely as you say." Codsworth amended, leaving the curse word out.

"You would have loved it, Codsworth." She stated, hat falling forward to the point she had to push it out of her eyes.

"Good to know there are still some civilized people in this world, mum." Codsworth replied. "Perhaps one day we can travel there together. Though, I'm afraid I never did develop my sea legs. Does that still apply if the boat is stationary?"

"I'm not sure." Macha chuckled, watching Hancock enter into their home in Sanctuary, only a few feet away. Their home. Macha felt her face flush as she realized the significance of that thought. Not just the home part.. but theirs. Relationships in the wastelands certainly were straight forward. There had been no testing the waters on moving in together, no discussion or awkward conversations. They practically had been roommates before, now they just shared the same bed like it was the most natural thing for them to be together. Like they had just fallen into some unheard rhythm or pattern and neither one questioned the beat because… because they were happy.

Yes. Macha was happy. The happiest she had ever been since waking here. It was a strange feeling; intermingled with some guilt over her playing house in the same neighborhood she and Nate and lived in. However, she was learning to quickly get over that sensation and just enjoy the moment. She was content just to be with him. He was enough. But try as she might, she couldn't tell him. He was the one with all the pet names and affection. The cuddler of the two. She still walled herself off some, too terrified to admit.. to tell him how she felt, though it was getting easier to let him in.

"Mum?" Codsworth inquired hesitantly, interrupting her thoughts. "I was wondering what we were going to do as a celebration this year? I'm having a dreadful time finding a cake and the only pie around here for miles has nothing to do with confections."

The robot gestured to the grazing Brahmin. Macha didn't know how exactly, but he mimicked disgust quite well with his metal appendages. "Oh, and there's the issues with decorations. Sadly, no streamers or banners survived the flames. I did find some folders I can cut up into decorative shapes and hang. Or perhaps use leaves, but the color selection is rather limited, I'm afraid. And there are a few Halloween decorations that I managed to scrounge up, but hardly fitting for the occasion."

"Hold that thought. Celebration? I have no earthly idea what you are referring to."

"Why for your birthday, mum. It's next month on the fifteenth. Surely you haven't forgotten?"

Macha heart's leap from her chest like it was being pursued by a voracious deathclaw. Her birthday. Shit. She had completely forgotten. She'd be thirty two. Or... was it two hundred and thirty two? When did she start counting from? The thought made her stomach go sour and the depression slowly started to seep back in. Just another reminder of how she didn't belong here and how much she lost. And Shaun wouldn't be here to celebrate with her. No. Better just to leave it alone. There wasn't really anything worth celebrating anyways.

"Don't worry about it, Codsworth." She said dismissively. "No birthday celebration this year."

"But, mum. It's tradition."

"It was tradition. But, there's no place for that here. Not in this time. That was something of.. and for.. the past. I appreciate it, Codsworth. I really do. It's very thoughtful of you. But even if you could find a cake, how would you fit 232 candles on it?

The robot blinked its ocular lens at her and paused. "Well, that does pose quite a conundrum, doesn't it mum? But, I'm sure we could arrange something. You've helped out so many people, surly they would want to see that your day of birth is acknowledged."

She drained the last of her beer. "Just.. let it go, Codsworth. And please.. don't mention it to anyone. The last thing I want is for everyone to make a fuss over it. Birthday parties just aren't part of this world any more."

"As you wish, mum." The robot's gears made a whirring noise, like a disappointed sigh.

Hancock waited a few more moments before exiting their house, giving Macha and the robot some time to resume normal conversation so they wouldn't know he had heard most of what was said. Birthday hmmmmm? Interesting.

The beers in his hands were already defrosting, ice melting and trickling down his palm as he put one down in front of her. "For you."

"My hero." She batted her eyes at him, as he sat back down, and popped the top off his and pocketing the cap. "Your earlier furniture transgressions are forgiven."

"You know.. it IS made of metal and outside."

"That's not the point. I made it and am proud of it."

"You soldered two pieces of metal together and cut a hole in the center, then stuck an umbrella in it. Yes, you are a real jack of all trades." He teased.

She pouted at him, a delectable droplet of beer resting on her bottom lip. Hancock felt the sudden urge to lick it off. Things between them had changed ever since that night aboard the ship. There was still some distance to bridge, but gradually, she was letting her guard down around him. That tight coil of control unwinding as they grew closer. He couldn't help himself. He half stood and caught her mouth unawares, drawing forth a tiny squeak of surprise. But, instead of the normal smack in the chest or arm, he felt her lips curve into a smile and she coupled her mouth with his. Her hand went to his face, bringing him closer as her tongue slipped between his teeth, enticing his tongue to join with hers. A kiss returned openly, with no hesitation right in front of all the settlers to see. The Lieutenant's hat collided with his own and tumbled to the ground.

"Ahem." Codsworth stated, embarrassed. "Shall I leave? Or perhaps you two should get a room?"

Hancock broke the kiss, retrieving her fallen hat and sat back down, placing it on the table. "Codsworth, my man, that was relatively tame compared to the trouble we can get into."

"I know the world has ended, but certainly we aught to strive for little common decency." The robot huffed in a stuffy manner.

Macha reached out and took his hand and supported his statement. She gave him a sultry wink that set his heart running. "Yeah, buttttttt... where's the fun in that?"

Hancock and Macha shared a laugh that quickly died on Macha's lips and became a groan when she heard Preston Garvey call to her.

"Jesus Christ. Now what?" She mumbled, chugging her beer.

"General. Are you busy?" Preston said as he approached.

"Yes, but not like that's ever stopped you. What's going on?" Macha tried to hide her annoyance. She swiveled in her chair to face him.

"Just got word that the Abernathy girl has been kidnapped by raiders." Preston replied. "They need help."

"Are you serious? This the third time that girl has been kidnapped! What is she doing? Inviting every raider in for tea?"

"I.. have no idea."

"It was a rhetorical question, Preston. Can't you send someone else? I mean, no offense, but why are we training all these troops and having people join us if I'm the one who always has to run in and save the day?"

"There's no one else nearby, General. Are you... drinking? It's barely noon."

Christ, not this again. "Yes, I've had a few beers. What's wrong with that? And why don't you go? You're capable. Go see what it's like to run around all over the Commonwealth and rescue the same people over and over again. Or to be called out to a place miles away because one raider fired a single shot at the wall. I mean, never mind that the place has twenty missile turrets I painstakingly built to protect it. I personally have to go and track down that one raider and kill them because the settlers are too scared to leave the safety of the walls. That's miles of deathclaw, mole rat, and feral infested ground to cover in the scorching sun just to put one bullet in the brain of a guy that would be immolated the second he came in range of the turrets."

Preston just stoically stared at her. Gods, was this guy a synth? He had to be. He didn't drink, smoke, do chems.. as far as she could tell he never cut lose or had fun. Is that how she had been before the war? Fuck what a stick in the mud. He had the expressiveness of a robot. Nope. She took that back. Codsworth was more emotional than him. He had the expressiveness of a rock. That was more accurate. That rock right there, Macha thought finding a large stone that jutted out under the foundation of her house. Compared to Preston, that rock was winning a fucking Oscar award for it's portrayal of Hamlet.

Macha sighed in defeat. As always, it fell on her. Just one more perk of being the General, she supposed. "Fine. Yeah yeah.. rescue girl. Got it. I'll get it done. But if you get any reports about her being chained to a missile turret, just to let you know in advance, they are horrible horrible lies."

"That's not funny, General." Preston said with a grimace.

"Yes it is. You just have no sense of humor." She turned to Hancock, handing him the rest of her beer. Not like she was going to get to finish it. "Ready? I've just got to get my General's hat."

"Actually, why don't I sit this one out. Seems to me, Garvey here has been holed up in the relative safety of Sanctuary too long. May do him some good to get back out there and see what it's really like. I've got to head back to Goodneighbor soon anyways. Been away too long. I've probably got a pile of paperwork the size of the Brotherhood of Steels' ego waitin' for me."

"Oh." Macha said in disappointment, but she forced a smile. Well, he had responsibilities too. It wasn't right for her to expect him to wait. It's just... for once she decided to say it instead of just think it. "I'll miss you. Be careful out there."

He stood, caressing her chin and tilting her head up. His kiss was fervent, as if he was just as frustrated about leaving and wanted to make sure this moment was ingrained in both of their memories.

Preston awkwardly cleared his throat and looked away.

"I can't say I'm thrilled with the prospect of leaving you... but I do love to watch you go. I'll see you later." He said with a seductive tone. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't leave much out." Macha commented drying, straitening his collar.

Hancock gave her a hedonistic wink. "I know. Hey, Garvey. Keep her safe. You're looking at the only thing keeping the Minutemen from falling apart."

"Yeah. I know." Preston's response was flat and toneless. "We both are."

"Well, come on. We have a long walk ahead of us." She snatched up the bicorn and darted inside. When she returned, she was sporting her General's tricorn. _Much better,_ Hancock thought as she started off. He enjoyed them having matching hats. It was like a subtle indication of their partnership. Kind of like her Silver Shroud and what was his name -Martian Man or something?. A dynamic Duo. Two tricorn wearing vigilantes trying to make a difference in the Commonwealth, one clip at a time. They were gonna need a lot of bullets.

"Yeah, but at least it's not raining." Preston said as he joined her on the road out of Sanctuary Hills.

"Take care, mum." Codsworth stated, waiving his metal appendage goodbye.

Hancock watched them as the passed over the bridge, watching Macha's ass the whole time. He finished his beer, then hers, his mouth lingering a bit longer than normal where her lips had touched. Only when she was out of view, did he turn to Codsworth.

"So, tell me all about this birthday party."

* * *

"Are you here to rescue me?" Lucy Abernathy asked with wide, tear filled eyes.

"Yes." Macha grunted in exasperation. "For the third time."

She set to unbinding the young woman while Preston kept watch. Fuck it was hot in here. Why the hell did the raiders have to pick the Ironworks of all places? And couldn't they turn the fucking machines off? Or did they just like the ambiance that molten metal, steam, and noxious vapors created? Maybe that explained why they we all stupider than dirt. Too much brain damage from all the fumes they inhaled. She finished sawing through the rope that bound Lucy and helped her to her feet.

"Oh, thank you!" The woman through her arms around Macha and hugged her in gratitude.

Macha felt some of the ire she was harboring toward the girl evaporate. She sighed. "You're welcome. Just... stay away from the raiders, ok? I can't be there to keep you safe all the time and next time they may want more from you than just caps."

Macha took the 10 mm pistol off a nearby raider corpse and made sure it was loaded. She then put it in the trembling hands of the young woman. Lucy glanced at the weapon and then with resolve, tightened her grip on the stock.

"General!" Preston said in a hushed voice. "That's hardly appropriate."

"It's the ugly truth and she needs to hear it, Preston. Pretending that it doesn't happen won't prevent it from occurring. It's a hard world out there and she needs to learn to defend herself." She turned back to Lucy. "They didn't touch you, did they?"

Eyes still impossibly wide, she shook her head no. "They roughed me up a little, but nothing like that. I … I think some of them were going to.. but the leader wouldn't let them. He thought he may not get the caps if ..if. Oh... god.. if you hadn't come... they would have..."

The young woman broke down and started crying, the weapon falling from her hands. Macha's bottom lip trembled and for a second, she was going to cry with the girl. Several months ago, she had been like this. A sobbing wreck of a woman not able to deal with what the world had become. How she had changed since then. And how she had stayed the same as well.

She grabbed Lucy by the shoulders and shook her. "Stop. Crying solves nothing. You are alive, but if you let them terrify you and let fear run your life, then they win. Even dead, they still control you. Is that what you want?"

"N-no." Lucy sniffled, wiping her tears away, hiccuping sobs slowly subsiding.

"Good. Then pick that weapon up. Do you know how to use it?"

She nodded, not a hundred percent confident, but gripped the gun with both hands. "My Pa taught me some. I'm not very good, but I can try."

"Then become good. Let me show you how to hold it." Macha gave the young woman a crash course in how to handle and fire the weapon as well as the fastest way to reload. "I want you to practice shooting targets every day. And when I make my rounds and stop by your farm, you show me what you've learned. I'll send bullets with the provisioner that supply your farm so you won't run out. I expect you to be a sharpshooter by the time I visit again, got it?"

"Yes ma'am." The girl stated.

"Good." Macha nodded, satisfied. At least this would give the poor girl something to think about and do other than ponder what her fate would have been if Macha and Preston hadn't made it in time.

"Let's move. Lucy, stay behind me and Preston in case there are any stragglers. And... try not to accidentally shoot us, ok?"

Her response was less than inspiring. "I'll try."

* * *

Daisy's hand came away from the revolver she had tapped under her counter as Goodneighbor's entrance slammed shut. No raider's or super mutants this time, but it was always better to be prepared. A familiar silhouette of an imposing figure in a frock and tricorn stepped forward into the glow of the neon lights.

"Daisy. How's my favorite girl?" She could make out his boisterous smile from even here. Boy, she was glad to see him, though the rest of the town may not feel the same.

"Hancock." She replied neutrally, her eyes darting around. It was almost curfew and she was just finishing closing up shop. Not only were the prices soaring, but the curfew forced her to shut down shop early. This was really cutting into her profits and normally annoyed her, but today she was grateful. The streets were almost barren, only a few stragglers making their way home. Good. It would give her a chance to talk to him with minimal witnesses.

She motioned to come closer, pulling the gate that closed her shop back enough for him to slip through and closed it behind him.

His smiles faltered a bit as he noticed her nervousness. "Hey? No love for your Mayor? What gives?"

"Upstairs." She said simply, pointing to the stairs that led up to her small room and terminal.

Hancock arched his brow, a sparkle in his eye and a smirk forming on his face. He teased her out of habit, knowing nothing would come of it. It was their usual banter; he made a pass and she flatly refused. "Tempting Daisy, but you know I'm taken and off the market. Though..I don't blame you. How could you resist?"

Daisy rolled her eyes, grabbing him by the lapel and started to drag him up the stairs. "I swear, Hancock. Macha must have a heart of gold to put up with you. Where have you been? Do you even know what's happened in your absence?"

He seized her hand and removed it from his jacket. "Hey. What's going on?"

"I'll tell you once we are upstairs." Pinpricks of fear were hidden behind her dark eyes. It instantly set him on alert.

His playful demeanor had dropped the second she didn't smile back at him and continue their typical dialogue. He was all business as he followed her up to her small room. Sparsely furnished with a bedroll, terminal and few utilitarian pieces of furniture, Daisy lived simply. She flicked on the overhead light and sat cross-legged on her bedroll.

"First things first." She said, fishing under her pillow and tossing him a yellow holodisk. "My guy came through, but it wasn't cheap. A thousand caps."

Hancock almost fell out of his chair for the second time in a week. "A thousand caps?!"

"You said the price didn't matter. And this was NOT easy for him to get. He took a risk personally delivering it because he didn't want to send it through the normal channels in Bunker Hill and risk those raiders stealing it. So, a thousand caps and you owe both me AND him. You will not believe the favors I had to call in to get that."

"Shit." He cursed, flipping the holo over in his hands. "You checked it? It's legit?"

Daisy shook her head. "It's not exactly as you described, but the closest thing he could find. He was fortunate to find that at all. This kind of stuff is in high demand by purists and collectors."

She held out her palm and placed the holo into her terminal, turning the screen to face John so he could see the imagine.

He titled his head and examined the contents of the holodisk. Well, it wasn't exact, but it was pretty damn close. Probably the best he could hope for.

"All right. A thousand it is." Taking the halo back from Daisy, he pocketed it and gave her the six hundred caps he had on him. "Here's what I have on me now. I'll get you the rest from my Treasury once I collect from the bar and hit my store room. Now, what's going on?"

"Make sure to keep the cost of that item to yourself." Daisy said, indicating the halo he had pocketed. People find out you spent those kinda caps on a bauble while they are having a hard time feeding their kin, it's gonna get messy."

"Not my first time around the block, Daisy. Raiders still at it? Why doesn't Sinjin just have the decency to die?"

"There's more." Daisy looked uncomfortable. "It's not my place to tell you all this. You need to talk to Fahrenheit right away. Go straight there, don't stop to talk to anyone else."

John's brow furrowed. She was scared. Daisy was a pre-war ghoul. She had survived the aftermath of the bombs and the hell that followed. The fight for resources, becoming a ghoul, the mutated creatures of the world venturing out and attacking anything that moved. She had endured all that and still came out smiling. She was a tougher than most he knew. When something frightened Daisy, there was cause for concern.

"What's weighing on you?"

"The people.. they aren't happy, John. We found a synth among the populace."

Hancock sat heavily in his chair. Fuck. "Who was it?"

"Sammy."

Sammy. Sammy. Yeah he knew Sammy. Or... well, had known him. Drinker, chem head, chain smoker, fornicator- his kinda guy. Funny as hell when he was trying to work the electrical systems both drunk and stoned. He came away some days with his blonde hair standing on end from all the shocks he had received; a whips of smoke curling up from his locks. The lights in the main part of town would flicker and people would joke that Smokin Sammy was at it again, even if he was off that night. Of all the ways for that fucker to go, replaced by a synth would never have been Hancock's first guess.

"Shit." He cursed softly.

"There's been talk.. of a group of people calling themselves the Triggermen. So far it's just whispers in the dark, but they are saying.. John, they are talking about over throwing you. People are terrified and think you took off on them. They are looking for someone to lead them in these trying times."

"Just cause I'm not here, doesn't mean I've left for good." His anger building. He just needed to get away a bit. After everything he had done for them, didn't they trust him? He stood, pacing, his ire visible now. "I've just needed to get out there. Take the fight to the Institute and those fucking with the little people. Me and Goodneighbor have a connection. I ain't ditchin' everyone."

"Tell that to them, Hancock. You've always been a friend, so I wouldn't feel right not warning you. But it's dangerous here right now. People are starving and you left at a crucial time. And now, with the appearance of a synth, they are starting to panic. Fahrenheit has doubled the Watch and instilled a curfew."

"She what?!" John whirled, his coat tailed flying around him. Well, holy shit, that just made things worse. The whole point of Goodneighbor was living free. The population that massed here didn't do well under rigid rules and restrictions. They tended to push back, usually with bullets and explosives instead of words. "This is my fucking town and they are not going to push me out. Oh no, I think it's time to remind people I'm in charge here! Not the damn Institute, not Sinjin, but me. John Hancock!"

With that, he stormed down the stairs and out of her shop without even a thank you. Daisy sighed as she followed him down and locked her shop for the night. Well, at least he went straight to the old state house. She didn't envy Fahrenheit the earful she was going to get tonight.

* * *

"Papa!" Lucy cried as she threw her arms around her father.

Macha grinned as he picked his daughter up and swung her around in a circle. She may bitch and moan about this sometimes when she felt overwhelmed and under appreciated, but it was moments like this that made it all worth it. She knew without a doubt, backing the Minutemen had been the right choice.

"I can't thank you enough." Mr. Abernathy cried, still clutching his daughter to him.

"It's all thanks to the Minutemen." Macha said with practiced ease. "Lucy, you remember what I said. I'll be back and I want results not excuses."

"Yes Ma'am." The girl replied, raising her hand in a backwards salute.

Well, she tried. Macha chuckled softly to herself as she and Preston headed off. They walked the roads in relative silence other than some of Garvey's dull comments about the weather. Macha tuned him out and thought of the day's events. One less innocent person hurt and several more raiders in the ground where the assholes belonged. She should feel accomplished and proud. Instead, she felt …..itchy. Even her teeth itched. About now, she and Hancock would be high as a kite with celebratory toast of Jet followed by a chaser of alcohol and mentats.

Shit. She wanted to relax, but not in front of Garvey. He would certain disapprove and lecture her about the image of the Minutemen and blah... blah .. blah. She knew what she was doing and had kept her drug use and drinking under careful wraps. Well... for the most part. There was that one time in Diamond City... and that one other time... and maybe just one more after that. But other than that, she had been discrete.

So itchyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. And her head hurt. And her hair. The roots of her hair were screaming in agony. A cacophony of diminutive voices smothered under her hat. Fuck. She needed to take something, but she couldn't stand the thought of listening to him preach the entire way back to Sanctuary. She needed some privacy. Her hand began vigorously scratching her arm and she was forced to sandwich her palm under her armpit to stop itching.

"Hey.. I um.. got to go answer a call of nature. Wait here." She hurriedly explained to Preston.

"Of course Gen-"

She was already gone, ducking behind a large bent tree up the road. She peeked around the trunk, making sure Preston was glancing away. Sure enough, the conservative man had his back to her, not wanting to even tempt a peek in her direction.

The smile on Macha's face was greedy and anticipatory. Perfect. A little peace, a small fix and she would be back in the road, Preston none the wiser. Setting her weapon aside, she squatted down and popped the top of a bottle of Buffjet and shuddered with ecstasy as the pills slid down her throat. She closed her eyes, resting her head on the tree, the pill bottle tumbling into the dirt. The bark was rough against the back of her head and a knot of wood was poking her in the neck, but at least her teeth stopped itching and her hair was silent. Though... there was a new noise. Scratching or scuttling? Was it getting closer? What was that?

Macha opened her eyes just at the radscorpion lunged its stinger at her. If not for the time slowing effects of the drugs, the tapered point would have ended up in her skull. Macha reflexively ducked, not sure if what she was seeing was a hallucination brought on by the chems or reality.

The stinger pinned her hat to the tree trunk, missing her head by millimeters as she kicked out at the massive arachnid. Reality came crashing down around her as the radscorpion grabbed her thrashing foot by the ankle in its pincers and crushed the bone. This was decidedly not a hallucination.

Macha screamed in excruciation and used her enhanced strength to kick the scorpion in the face with her free leg. It hissed at her, lunging again and hit her full force in the ribs with its claw. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, a freight train tearing down the tracks at breakneck speeds. She barely felt the pain as her ribs snapped in two. Above her head, the radscorpion had managed to free it's stinger from the tree and her hat and bits of dried bark spilled into her lap.

Grabbing her weapon as it dragged her along the ground, she aimed for the creature's face and depressed the trigger. The click that sounded from the empty chamber was deafening. She had forgotten to reload. Well fuck me sideways wasn't that just ironic? Not three hours ago, she was just instructing Lucy on the finer points of firing a gun and survival and here she had forgot rule one. Always reload any chance you get. You never know when having that last bullet will save your life.

Macha roared at the radscorpion as the stinger raised over her head, poised for another strike. Using the butt of her sniper rifle as a club she struck out and staggered the creature but the stinger was still descending.

Light blinded Macha as the blast from Preston's laser musket pierced the chitinous exoskeleton of the radscorpion. It reared, pulling back it's stinger from its intended target and released her foot. The radscorpion brandished its claws in a threatening display and turned on Garvey. It's pincers made a clicking sound as it scuttled toward him, anxious to rip into the Minuteman.

"Run General!" The Minuteman exclaimed as he fired again, luring the creature away from her.

Not needing to be told twice, Macha stood to sprint and immediately fell back down as her ankle collapsed on itself. Drugs or not, the chemical high couldn't fix crippled limbs, just help her ignore the physical ramifications. Rolling on her back and sitting up, Macha snapped a clip into her rifle and aimed for the arachnid's legs. Her shot sent one of its legs flying and the second bullet tore through another two.

The radscorpion's attention refocused on Macha; the easier prey. It dragged half of it's body toward her as they continued to pick it apart, piece by piece, chunks of it's protective shell chipping away.. Macha jumped as the stinger thumped into the ground right in front of her non-injured leg and the radscorpion crumpled to the earth. With a final venomous hiss, and snap of it's claw, it finally stilled.

* * *

The fiery redhead stared into Hancock's black eyes impassively. She wasn't backing down on this, no matter how much he railed. "You weren't here. I had to do something. It made the most sense at the time. Keep the population under control and limit panic. They were already starting to eye each other and go for their weapons. It would have been a massacre had I done nothing. "

"But a fucking curfew? Christ Fahrenheit! These aren't the type of people you confine and put a strangle hold on. They tend to fight back. It's what I love about em. They are survivors."

"You put me in charge while you ran off and fucked around. I did the best I could, but people are asking a lot of questions about why- in their hour of need- you aren't here! They need their leader. And they need answers. So far, all I've done is give them empty promises."

"Welcome to the world of politics." John said blackly. He sighed and ran his hand over his face. She was right. She did what had to be done. "What's going on with Sinjin?"

"Nothing. He's still gone to ground, picking off the caravans. We lost two more this month. That leaves just two willing to make the trip. I've tried to broker a deal with Bunker Hill. Offered to cover their expenses if they will send more guards with the caravans or have some of the Watch meet them halfway as an escort, but they won't deal with anyone but you. Even then, it won't really change much. The prices will still be too high for most to afford. Since the synth incident, I've had to increase the Watch, which means more caps. People are becoming more violent and desperate, I've had four murders to deal this week alone. And the bar ain' t doing too hot. With the cost of alcohol going up, and everything else, it's dead. Charlie's been down there bitchin' and actually cleaned the bar's glasses for once because he's so bored."

"What the hell am I paying you for?" Hancock growled as he picked up the Third Rail's ledger. Even just eyeballing the figures, he could tell it was in the red. Shit. He was bleeding caps from every end. He was going to end Sinjin as slowly and painfully as possible when he got the chance.

"You pay me to protect you." Fahrenheit clarified. "And I can't do that if you keep running off. Luckily for you, I have a plan that may just flush Sinjin out and get us out of this mess."

Hancock stopped pacing and stared at his bodyguard. She was damn quick. It was one of the reasons he had hired her. Sharp minds stayed alive. "Have I told you today how beautiful you are?"

She sneered at him in mild disgust. Men were not on Fahrenheit's menu. Yet another reason he had hired her. She offered no chance of distraction or romantic entanglement. Not that he didn't still try, even to fuck with her. She replied in her usual fashion when he laid on the charm.

"Fuck you." She said not too unkindly.

"What is it with you ladies lately? The second I'm taken and you are all over me. Not that I'm complaining." Hancock said flippantly, reclining on his couch. He ignored the snort of derision Fahrenheit produced and took a hit of Jet. He sighed, needing to chill, the vapors leaving his mouth in a puff. "Lay it on me."

By the time she was done explaining, his buzz had been killed and he was leaning forward on the couch, a weighted stare leveled at his bodyguard.

"Find another way." He growled.

"I've tried." Fahrenheit replied defensively.

"You are talking about using my girlfriend as bait. Bait to lure out one of the nastiest, sickest fuckers the Commonwealth has ever produced."

"Look," Fahrenheit explained. "She's already expressed concern over Kent dressing up as the Shroud and attempting to play hero. All it would take is a little nudge to get her to assume the role as costumed vigilante. She's an unknown player in this game. She just wears the costume and while disguised, takes out some of the lower levels of Sinjin's gang and see if we can him pissed enough to make a mistake and give us an opening. She doesn't have to know who she's killing. Probably better that way so the Minutemen don't end up in Sinjin's cross hairs. Why risk her refusing because she doesn't want to get tangled up in Goodneighbor's affairs? Just keep her in the dark as to who the targets really are and have Kent direct her to some of Sinjin's men. She feels like she's doing the right thing and we get a shot. If nothing comes of it, she's just an unknown costumed crazy running around with no ties to Goodneighbor. No direct ties to you or our town so no retaliation. No one gets hurt."

"Yeah. Except maybe Macha."

"She will be wearing a disguise and you told me she was a crack shot and could handle herself."

"She is, but that doesn't mean I'm going to serve her up on a platter for that bastard. He napalmed his own men just to kill a few enemies. Why haven't you taken these low lives out already if you know they work for Sinjin?" Anger was a sharp edge in his voice, slicing through the smoke and the haze.

"Because Hancock. He knows I work for you. It won't be personal enough to get him to make a move. I lean on these thugs and I get nothing but to have to start over again. He will just squeeze the town more and our people will pay for it. The leads I got are so low level, I doubt they know anything about his location. He's too smart for that. But if some costumed freak makes a fool out of him and messes with his operation and word gets out, he will want to protect his reputation. He will be forced to make a move, then we counter."

"Enough!" He snapped at her. He fumbled for a cigarette, his hands shaking in rage. "This isn't one of your fucking games of chess here, Fahrenheit. This is Macha we are talking about."

"Boss," Fahrenheit said quietly. "You asked me for a solution and I gave you one. I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's the best option we have. Your people are suffering. They are angry and scared and despairing. We are running out of caps. Soon, I won't be able to pay the Watch. Then what? You think they will patrol the streets for free? Our people are divided, our defenses waning, and resources almost non existent. No back up is coming. We are on our own. The talk about the Triggerman is not just rumors. Your enemies are using this chaos to make a move and sow dissent among the people. Everyday, their hold on our town gets a little stronger. How long until one of them thinks they can do better than you and tries to take you out? Or they turn the people on you? Convince them you are a synth or working for the Institute? People are already saying you've gone soft. That's why you took off. Because you couldn't handle it."

"I ain't soft." He snarled, taking a lengthy drag off his cigarette. "Just fucking let em try. I'll make sure they don't forget a second time just how merciless I can be."

Fahrenheit tried one last gamble to drive her point home. It was a good plan. It would work, she knew it. She just had to get him over his infatuation with that woman and make him see it was the only chance they had. "Of the people, for the people. That's the motto of Goodneighbor. At what point did she become more important than the lives of your own people? How many have to starve or be murdered by their neighbors because they suspect they may be a synth before you do something? Sinjin is coming and we can no longer stand against him. We may as well just throw down our weapons and fling open the doors, because that is how easy it's going to be to take this place. After all you sacrificed, are you going to let it end like this? Quietly snuffed out like a cigarette?"

"Get out before I cut your goddamn throat." He voice was quiet and dangerous. He stood, menacing as he unsheathed his long bowie knife and began cleaning the dirt out from a fingernail as he stared his bodyguard down.

"Think on it." Fahrenheit said stiffly, as she dared to turn her back on him and leave the room.

* * *

Macha bound her ankle and cracked her neck, willing the stimpaks to act faster. She was having a hard time breathing, which probably meant her broken ribs had punctured a lung. She needed to heal fast, before she drowned in her own blood.

Preston nudged the radscorpion carcass with his boot, ensuring it was dead. "You alright?"

Macha tried to speak and ended up having a coughing fit. She settled on nodding and injected herself with another stim. She felt strange. In pain but not really caring.. but in the back of her mind knowing she should. She was hurt pretty badly. Her head was a red balloon, barely attached to her neck and being buffeted by the wind. Her stomach was on spin cycle, tossing the contents around in a furious motion that threatened to have everything come back up. She groaned and rest her head on her knee, closing her eyes while she tried to wrestle control of her stomach.

"General."

Macha tried to focus her dilated pupils on Preston. He was holding something in his hand. Shaking her head to clear it, she forced her eyes to lock onto the object. The words on the label belatedly came into focus. Buffjet. Well, shit.

"Are you using chems? Before you know it, you are going to have a real problem." His disapproving frown overshadow much of his features. Then, his face melted off and slid to the ground, forcing Macha to close her eyes again.

"C-calm down, Preston." She panted, still feeling like she only had one functioning lung. "Only... every once ….in a while. It gives me... an edge ….in battle. I got it ….under control."

"You don't need this stuff. I'm not entirely sure you should be representing the Minutemen in this way."

Macha chuckled bitterly. That's what it always came down to. Image and reputation. Did he forget she was still human? She was doing the best she could dealing with all this shit. She had no idea what she was doing half the time. She constantly second guessed herself on almost every choice she made. She didn't ask to be the General of the Minutemen. She had taken up with them because it was something she didn't have to think about. Helping setters survive and making the scum of the Commonwealth eat bullets. It was the right thing to do and there was no question in her mind about that. But that was before all the demands flooded in and she felt herself being stretched thin. Always General do this, General do that. Christ, couldn't she just get a moment of damn peace and relax? If she wanted to use chems that was her fucking business. She still did what needed to be done. She still got results. "Chill the fuck out...Garvey. I've kept it... incognito. Don't want to... tarnish the precocious reputation ….of the Minutemen any more than it already is, right?"

Preston tossed the bottle down with the most emotion she had even seen. "You know, I used to think you were different but you are letting this place get to you and change you."

"So I've become ….a little more of a hard ass about somethings ….and not so much a tight ass about others. What's the big deal... with cutting back and letting loose?"

"I've seen you risk your life for people out here just because it was the right thing to do. It matters. You are making a difference in these people's lives. That girl, Lucy. Not only did you save her, but you gave her a fighting chance in this world. You are teaching her to defend herself so she is self sufficient. That's who you are. The people need you, General. They look up to you. You cannot let them see you like this."

"No, they don't need me. Preston. That's where you are wrong. We are all replaceable and all will die eventually. Someone else will just take up the mantle of General and pick up where I left off." She was finally able to breathe properly and her ankle bone had fused back together. Stifling a moan of agony, she got to her feet and brushed her ass off. She didn't need to hear this shit. She hobbled over to her weapon and reloaded it, slinging the sniper rifle over her shoulder and began walking away from Preston.

"Listen to yourself. Gen- Macha. The chems. The drinking. You have lost a lot of weight recently. Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?"

"Mind your own damn business, Garvey." She shouted over her shoulder at him. She just needed to get back to Sanctuary and drop his sanctimonious ass off and be done with this. Then she could get back to having fun with her boyfriend and not have to hear this garbage.

"This is because of Hancock, isn't it?"

Macha stopped walking and turned around very deliberately to bore her eyes into Garvey. "What did you just say?"

"Ever since you took up with him, you have changed. I know it's not my place, but I think he's a bad influence on you. He got you hooked on chems. You're drinking early afternoon. He has a reputation of using people for his own ends, Macha. He's violent and manipulative chem lord of a slum town. He-"

"You're right. It's NOT your place to comment on any aspect of my relationship with Hancock." She was seething. Of course he had to bring John into this. He didn't know him. Not like she did. He didn't get to see the kindness behind those black eyes. Or the big heart behind the ragged flesh. Probably worried more about the image of his beloved Minutemen. Wasn't good form for the General of the Minutemen to be hooking up with a Ghoul, right? Who knows what kind of message THAT was sending to the Commonwealth. Well fuck him.

"You got people who care about you. Don't do this. I know what giving up looks like. After what happened in Concord. I was ready to give up. I didn't care whether I lived or died anymore, at least not for myself. And then you just showed up and saved us, for no other reason than because you could. It was because of you, and who you are, that turned things around for me. I hope you respect me enough to know I only say this because our friendship is important to me. I'm not giving up on you. You need help before this gets any worse. It's better to just go cold turkey and stop while you can."

So what? He thought admitting to her that he was going to off himself would make this better? Like she was some fucking hero, rushing in to save the day? She wasn't. To him or anyone else. She was just trying to survive. She didn't need his help. She was fine. There was nothing wrong with what she was doing. She was in control.

"Preston. We are not discussing this anymore. I don't need your help. There's nothing to help with. I'm perfectly fine. I'm not hooked on chems. I told you, it's only once in a while. So shut the fuck up." She said through gritted teeth. "And that is a direct order from your commanding officer. Do you copy?"

Preston looked taken aback and outwardly flinched. She had never once pulled rank on him. Half the time, she didn't even seem to take it seriously.

Macha could have sworn something akin to sadness flitted behind his eyes for a brief moment, but then it was gone and the placid neutrality of his countenance returned. The display of emotion was fleeting; Nothing but dust in the wind. He gave her a sharp nod. "Understood. General."

They walked the rest of the way back to Sanctuary Hills in silence.

* * *

"Hancock." Fahrenheit violently shook her employer awake. He had passed out on the couch again, a mess of empty pill bottles, beer bottles, and needles evidence of how he went to sleep the prior evening. A lit cigarette still rested in an ashtray, smoke spirally into the air. She threw open a shuttered window, letting natural light flood the smoky room. "Get up. Your adoring public awaits."

Hancock groaned and sat up from his couch. His whole body hurt, even that toe he had lost. "Anyone seen the brand on the Brahmin that stamped on my head last night?"

What in the hell was that noise? Too loud to his hung over ears, several voices overlapped, shouting and desperate to be heard. It was way to early for this shit.

"Hey! I heard Hancock was back in town! I gotta talks with him!"

"Yeah, me too!"

"Is he avoidin' us? What's going on with the raiders!?"

A Watchman opened the door with barely a knock and stuck his head in. "Yo, boss, Eh.. we got a lot of people congregating out heres. They all want to talk to the Mayor. You want me to get rid of thems?"

"No. I got this. Send them over to the balcony and let them know I'll address their concerns in a sec. Call the whole town in, everyone available. I want them all to hear this." Hancock waived his hand in a dismissive gesture while holding a few beer bottles to the light to see if any of them still contained a swig of alcohol. His throat was dry as fuck. He needed a bit of a pick me up to get his juices flowing and make his tongue function for his speech.

Finding one with a sixteenth left, he tipped the contents into his mouth with a relieved sigh.

"I thought I told you to get out." He directed at Fahrenheit. The anger in his voice was gone now, mellowed by his night of binging.

"You did. But I still have a job to do. And the town folk are gathering, many of them not to thrilled with you. Looks like I'm really going to earn my keep today."

"No worries. You are exaggerating. A few honeyed words and I'll have em eating out of the palm of my hand. It will buy you enough time to think of some other way to get to Sinjin."

Fahrenheit didn't bother to reply. There was no other way. She had looked at it every possible angle. Unless they got lucky, that was the their only option. And she didn't bank much on luck. It had never favored her before. Stupid stubborn ass Ghoul. He was either just going to have to learn the hard way or he would be the end of them all.

Hancock stood, shaking the dust off his tricorn and made himself presentable. Time for a classic redirect. He may have hated his brother's guts, but the bastard was good for one thing. After watching him in office, he had learned a thing or two about politics and pleasing the masses, even when you couldn't deliver. Give em just enough to keep them hoping while you worked shit out behind the scenes. Make them think you knew exactly what you were doing, even if you were floundering. It was all smoke and mirrors and John well knew the art of a con.

He grabbed handfuls of unused chems off the coffee table, and stuffed them into his coat pocket, heading for the balcony door. Throwing them open for showmanship, he stepped forward and greeted his people. Many of the upturned faces wore expressions of ire or fear.

"People of Goodneighbor. Your Mayor has returned!"

He waited for the usual cheers and applause, but nothing greeted him but the angry and questioning eyes below. Well, tough crowd. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Now, I know you all are worried about recent events. I'm here to let you know it's all under control. We are working on the raider problem as we speak. But let's not lose sight of the real threat here. What kind of twisted, unneighborly boogeyman would want to hurt our peaceful community?"

He paused for dramatic effect. It was best to let one of the crowd answer, that way they felt smart and in control.

"The Institute and their synths?" One man answered uncertainly.

"That's right. Who said that? Come up to my office later. You've earned yourself some Jet." Now reward them for answering properly. Reinforce that the Institute is the enemy. Keep their minds off the raiders and blaming him for what was going down.

"What about me? I want some Jet to!"

"Hancock, I've got the shakes real bad. I need something! I haven't been able to get enough caps to get a fix!"

"Of course. You know I always take care of my people. Here. From my own personal stash." He threw a few chems out the audience. They scrambled like molerats over the last crumb of a Fancy Lad Snack Cake, elbowing and clawing at each other. John kept his features passive, but internally he was dismayed. He had never seen them so hopeless.

"Hey now! Settle down. There is plenty more where that came from. Just hear me out. We freaks gotta stick together. And the best way to do that is keep an eye out for what drives us apart, you feel me?"

The crowd looked at each other and somewhat mumbled in agreement. Hancock frowned. Normally they were shouting in agreement, their fists raised to the sky. He tried again. "Now the Institute is the real enemy. Not the raiders, or super mutants not even those tools at Diamond City."

"We heard youse brother was a synth! Is he working for the Institute? How do we know you aren't a synth?"

"Well, I do have a lot of time unaccounted for, but I usually attribute that to the chems." He waited for them to laugh. They didn't. Well, that was … new. They always laughed a this jokes. "You all know I got a personal beef with that lard head, but we are getting off tract here. No, my brother is an asshole, but not a synth. I want everyone to keep the Institute in mind. I may not be here as often, but that's because I'm bringing the fight to them. I haven't forgotten my people. This is our town! The only way to stop them is to stick together. They can't control us if we aren't afraid. Now, who's scared of the Institute?"

A second more than ideal ticked by, but eventually someone shouted, "Not us!"

Soon, everyone else followed, their voices resounding in unison. Good, he was back on track. Using the momentum he was building, he delivered the coup de grace. "And which town in the Commonwealth should the Institute not fuck with?"

"Goodneighbor!"

"And whose in charge of Goodneighbor?"

"Hancock!" They rallied in unison. Hancock soaked in the adoration of his people. True, this hadn't solved any of his problems, but at least he reminded them he was still in charge. He raised his hands up over his people. "Of the people, for the people!"

The people of Goodneighbor chanted their slogan with ardor as John flung the last handful of chems into the crowd. He was buying time and he knew it. This would serve as little more than distraction and when the chems and goodwill were gone, he'd be right back where he started. He had to do something soon. For his people's sake if not for his own.

He exited the balcony and closed the doors behind him, letting a sigh of relief escape his lips. Fahrenheit leaned against the wall, watching him. Well, he had pulled it off. For now. This would buy them time. She didn't know for what though. It wasn't like they had a lot of options.

"Deal with the Triggermen. I trust you can do THAT at least."

"I've already taken care of as many members as I can, as discreetly as possible. I can't move on the whole group openly. You know it would only strengthen their cause and give credence to their claims and make martyrs out of them."

"Shit Fahrenheit! What can you do?" He kicked over his desk chair and sent it flying across the room.

"I'm open to any ideas you may have, BOSS." She emphasized the word, reminding him of his role in this. His responsibility.

He sat heavily on his couch, reaching for one of the few remaining tins of Mentats left. After popping a few tabs, he faced her. "I don't know. I'm going to keep searching for another angle. Get out there and keep my ears to the ground, looking for opportunities. I suggest you do the same."

Fahrenheit unfolded her arms from her chest and gaped at him openly.

"I can't fuckin' believe it. You are leaving again?!" She asked incredulously. She knew he was crazy, but this was madness. The town would tear itself apart if he left a second time. There would be no consoling them with speeches next time.

"I gotta think and I can't do it here with a bunch of drifters breathing down my neck wanting me to fix all their problems. I got shit to do out there too. Just tell them I'm working on the raider problem. Which I will be. That I'm personally investigating ways to deter or stop the raids and get our caravans back. I'll talk to Bunker Hill and see what I can arrange."

"You have lost your goddamn mind? I'll tell them, but I can't promise they will believe it. You just remember while you are out there, with each passing day, there may not be a Goodneighbor to come back to. At least not one that welcomes Mayor Hancock back!"

He didn't need to tell her to leave in this case. She turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her; loud enough he was sure the entire town had heard it.

* * *

"General?" The Jun said in greeting. Macha looked up from her terminal, closing the down the turret diagnostic screen she was debugging.

"Yeah?"

"You said you wanted to know when Mr. Hancock returned to the settlement."

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I do recall saying that."

"Oh.. um.. well. Mr. Hancock has returned to the settlement."

"Thank you Jun." She chuckled lightly to herself and ripped off a sheet of paper from her clip board, handing it to him. "Will you take this to Stella? It's a revised copy of our provisions delivery to Abernathy Farms. Tell her I need the shipment amended before she goes out tomorrow."

Jun gave her a cringe worthy salute. It was a bit better than last time but still crooked and sloppy. Honestly, she wished they would stop that shit. It was awkward and painted a giant target on her back for anyone with half a brain that may be watching. Macha took a bit to file her papers away and locked her terminal, elated to see Hancock again and get the hell out of this town. She and Preston had been avoiding each other ever since their conversation and she just needed to get back out on the open road where she could be free.

Dogmeat sprung at her as she exited her house, emitting an excited whine. "Hey, buddy. Who's my good dog? Yes, you are! You are my good boy."

Ah yes. The mighty and powerful General of the Minutemen making kissy faces at her dog. Macha wondered what Preston would have to say about that. Probably something about her setting a bad example and promoting bestiality or some such nonsense. "Good boy. Stay."

The dog barked and bound around her with exuberance the retreated back to his doghouse. Macha stepped around a pile of brush that was growing out of the road and made her way to the front gate. Her boots clacked over the broken asphalt as she followed the road down to the bridge. She scowled when she got about half way there. She should be able to see him by now. For fuck's sake, the man wore a blazing red trench coat and tricorn. How hard was it to miss him?

Upon the wind, she caught the murmur of voices like smoke from a fire, sundered by the breeze. Cocking her head, she followed the sound until she spied Hancock standing behind one of the burnt out houses, conversing with Piper. She felt a flash of jealousy and she saw him lean in tell her something, speaking animatedly. Whatever he said caused Piper to clap her hands together with enthusiasm and nod emphatically. The reporter beamed at him obviously delighted with the topic of their conversation.

She scowled. Why was he talking to Piper? Why had he not come straight to her? Didn't he know she was waiting for him to return? She continued her approach, trying to rein in her flaring temper. No need to be jealous or insecure Macha. He's all yours. Just calm down. She forced her breathing to even out.

Piper noticed her approach and nodded to Hancock, who turned to meet her.

"Hey guys? What did I miss?"

That was all she had a chance to utter before he swept her up in his arms and passionately kissed her in greeting. When she could finally come up for air, she welcomed him as well. "Hi."

"Hi." He replied back. "Damn I missed you."

Stupid. She was so stupid being jealous. What had ever possessed her to even feel like that?

"Hey Blue." Piper interjected.

Macha glanced over Hancock's shoulder to see Piper grinning ear to ear. It was written clearly on her face. The Hah! I knew their was something going on between you two. Followed by, I wonder if she would kill me if I put this in the gossip column of Publik Occurrences?

"Just in case you are wondering, justice would be delivered swiftly and brutally if you were to do what I KNOW you are thinking about.

"Whatttt? Blue. Come on. You know I'd never do that to a friend."

"Uh huh." Macha said unconvinced. John released her and she straightened her hat and tried to retain some dignity. "Seems like you guys were having a good convo. What did I miss?"

Hancock rested the palms of both his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. "I was just telling Piper the latest joke I heard from Goodneighbor. Turns out she really likes the dirty ones. The lewder the better."

The reporter turned a shade of red that even Macha was envious of.

"T-that's not true!" She stammered, pulling at her scarf. "Boy, did it suddenly get hotter out here? It got hotter right?"

Hancock laughed. "Yeah, it got hotter alright."

Macha squeezed one his hands resting on his shoulder just a little too hard. Nope. She had every right to be jealous.

"Actually, I was letting Piper know how well received her article was in Goodneighbor. You know, the one about my brother being a synth? She took it as a compliment. It wasn't. Thanks for that, by the way. I can't tell you how wonderful it was to try and explain to a bunch of junkies that not only is my brother not a synth, but neither am I."

"Um... is that the assembly bell. I think I hear the assembly bell." Piper spouted nervously. "I'd better go. Later Blue. Hancock."

Macha waived farewell and turned to Hancock. "Well, seems like you had fun. How was Goodneighbor?"

"Hot, steamy, and not to bright. Like the perfect date."

He braced for the blow he knew was coming, taking the hit on his arm. Ah, it was good to be back. He had missed this.

"How did things go here while I was gone?"

Macha hesitated, wavering on telling him everything -her injuries, her fight with Preston, his finding out about the chem usage- then decided against it. No need to worry him. He had enough to deal already. It was enough that he was here. "Went well. The girl is safe and a few less raiders to contend with."

"That's my girl." He purred in satisfaction.

"I know you just got here, but I'm getting kinda antsy. How do you feel about getting back on the road soon?"

"Get the old dynamic duo back together, huh?"

She grinned. She liked that. "Dynamic duo, huh? I can't believe I didn't think about that. Let's do it!"

"Done. But, first thing tomorrow. My dogs are barking from the walk over here. Gimme a bit to recover."

"Oh... running low on stamina already huh? That doesn't bode well to back up all your boasting about the 'tour.'" She wiggled her eyebrows at him. Goading him to respond.

"Says the woman that couldn't even make it through the first half of the tour last time. Just going to have to pace myself with you. Don't want to blow your mind completely. At least, not yet."

Macha snorted as she wrapped her arm around John's waist and they went home.


	15. Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: The Castle
> 
> Warning: Cursing, NSFW, smut, dirty dirty pillows and naughty hot dogs left in microwaves too long
> 
> Listening to: I Found- Amber Run
> 
> Is Your Love Strong Enough-Bryan Ferry
> 
> Holding a Heart- Toby Lightman
> 
> Worlds Apart- Bluestone
> 
> Extraordinary way– Conjure One
> 
> I am what I am- Oceanlab
> 
> Final Light - (ft. Kelly RyuPhillip Lober
> 
> Alive (Ft. Sarah Kingsmill) -Krale vs Conor Elis
> 
> Various classical songs from the classical station.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Hancock reminded Macha, lightly nibbling on her neck.

Macha frowned at the wall behind Hancock's head, not exactly certain what he was referring too. The bar was dark and hazy, their enemies were dead, she was pleasantly buzzed, and he was shirtless. As far as she was concerned, everything was right in the world. Well, almost. She had to get him out of his pants. Then it would be perfect.

"The time." His breath tickled her ear.

Ohhhhh.. yeah. That. Yes. Duty called. Always at the most inopportune time. Her eyes darted toward one of the boarded up bullet hole laden windows of the Gwinnett restaurant. The sun was setting, casting hues of orange and gold over the Commonwealth and setting the world on fire once more. The colors streamed through the bullet holes in the wood, setting the floating dust moats alight. It was like a thousand tiny fireflies bound through the air in their own private celebration.

"Ughhh.. since when are you the responsible one?" She groaned as she reached around him and flipped the dial on her Pipboy, scanning the time. The neon green letters burned 5:15pm into her retinas through the dimness of the bar. Shit. She was late. She had made it a habit to turn to Radio Freedom every day at eight and five to make sure her settlements were safe. She was normally on top of it, but today she had gotten a little… distracted.

 _Well, better late then never,_ she thought tuning to the station. Nothing like the usual barrage of raider assaults, super mutant attacks, and kidnappings to kill the mood.

Hancock ran the tip of his tongue along the delicate flesh over her neck, causing a rush of pleasure as she tuned the radio. _P_ _lease be nothing, please be nothing._ _Just one day, please dear lord, on my birthday.. just one fucking day of peace!_ Her mental chant continued until the static ceased and a voice came over the wavelengths.

"Attention Minutemen. This is Radio Freedom calling in an urgent distress signal to the Castle. If you are in the area, please report to the Castle. Repeat. This is Radio Freedom requiring assistance at the Castle."

Oh goddammit. Of course. The gods weren't that kind. Macha bolted upright from her reclined position in Hancock's lap as her Pipboy started looping the message. Her leg kicked a stray empty bottle of Gwinnett and it skittered across the restaurant floor as she struggled to a less compromising position.

"Attention Min-" The sound died as she flipped the radio receiver off and glowered at Hancock.

"I don't suppose we can just pretend we didn't hear that?" She asked hopefully.

In response, he bent his head and seized her taunt nipple in his mouth, tonguing it expertly. She arched her back and cradled his head as he moved to the other breast, administering gentle kisses and flicks with his wet tongue. She closed her eyes and moaned, leaning into him.

He stopped suddenly, tormenting her wanting nipple with one last sumptuous lick and glazed up at her. "No. We can't. As much as I'd like to."

She growled in frustration and smacked him. "Then why did you do that?"

"Pay back." He grinned and reached for his shirt, slipping it over his head.

"You... you are an asshole."

"Never claimed to be anything else, love." He picked his hat off the table and placed it on it's normal perch, bucking his hips lightly in effort to get her to move.. and tease her. "Need to get my coat."

Goddammit she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face and occupy his lips in other ways. Macha mentally tried to will him to perform the opposite action. No. Less clothing, not more. Her birthday was almost over dammit and she had plans that didn't involve running around and getting shot at. He had been unusually prudish today despite several attempts to make out with him and get him naked. He kept making excuses or finding other things to do including trekking all the way across the Commonwealth to this restaurant. It figured. She was finally raring to go and he wasn't interested. This was turning out to be a really shitty birthday even without any sad excuse for a party Codsworth could have dreamed up.

After a few moments, she sighed in resignation and extricated herself from his lap, searching for her bra, top, and armor. He was right. He didn't know it was her birthday and that she had hoped to at least christen this day in more gratifying ways than blood, booze, and violence. She was General, after all. She'd feel pretty shitty if some of the settlers at the Castle perished all because she was horny. The assholes of the Commonwealth didn't care what day it was. Even she had told Codsworth it was irrelevant and meaningless and it seemed hypocritical to be selfish now and bitch and moan because the world went on without giving a fuck.

"Well, shit. Party's over then." She groused, hooking her bra around her chest and pulling her top on. "It better not be another mirelurk queen. If I never see another one of those again in my lifetime, it will be too soon."

She stretched out, snapping on her chest plate, and finished her bottle of Gwinnett pilsner, grunting as her eyes watered. Turns out beer, unlike spirits, did not get better with age. It kind of went the opposite direction. Macha was fairly certain that through osmosis, the pilsner had taken on some of the brown glass's symbolic properties. Namely tasting like watered down stale flatulence that went down like swallowing broken glass and threatened to come back up just as horribly.

Macha glanced at the clock over the bar that had frozen in time when the bombs fell. A quarter to nine the hands immortalized forever, covered in dust and grime and tarnished with age. _Happy two hundred and thirty second birthday Macha._ _Or was it two hundred and forty second?_ She pondered. Her initial time frame was off by a few years. When she had seen Shaun in Kellogg's memories, he had looked about ten years old. More time may have passed than she initially idea pressed down on her, suffocating her more than usual. She felt old and tired... but mainly just tired; a candle burning at both ends rushing towards that inevitable outcome where the flames would snuff each other out, a wisp of smoke the only evidence of their passing.

 _My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—It gives a lovely light_! Her mind quoted one of her favorite poems by Edna St Vincent Millay. Poetry. Yet another thing from the past that didn't belong here.

 _Cheers._ _Here's to one more year and burning brightly._ She thought as she raised her beer in a silent toast before putting it down on the bar. Well, what was one more year on top of over two hundred? Several Ghouls she had met lived that long and didn't seem any worse for it. She could die tomorrow, or today for that matter, but she would not end as puff of smoke in the wind. No, she would burn as brightly as she could, enjoying the little pleasures that life afforded her now. Her friends, the adrenaline rush of a good fight, the chems and booze, and of course...the time she had with Hancock. She turned and watched the Ghoul pull on his coat, tugging his sleeves out from the oversized cuffs.

"I'm glad you suggested we check this restaurant out." She commented, eyes never leaving his form as he picked up his shotgun. He double checked the drum barrel and then slammed it in place with a satisfying click. "Otherwise, we'd be too far away to help. It's about an hour walk there, we best get moving."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time. Two of my favorite things together: beer and the violence. Three, including you." He said, stepping over a dead super mutant and several broken bottles that littered the wooden floor. They had been hard pressed to find any intact bottles. Seems the super mutants didn't have a taste for beer and had been using much of it for target practice. Or maybe they just hit each other over the head with the bottles. Who knew? "I was hoping we would find something that didn't taste like piss. What kind of monster would do this to beer?"

"Yeah. Gonna have to give it one outta five stars. The alcohol tastes like it was aged in a shoe. Service was deplorable. I mean, the wait staff acts like they are dead." She nudged a super mutant brute with the toe of her boot. The body jiggled a bit and then was still. "And though the hanging bags of meat to add a certain je ne se qua to the ambiance, I'm not certain it's entirely sanitary."

"Why do they put the meat in nets? It's not like it's going to escape." Hancock poked one of the hanging bags of raw meat with the barrel of his shot gun causing it to sway and drip concealing blood on the floor in an abstract pattern. _It's the Commonwealth's version of a Spirograph_ , Macha thought perversely, watching a pattern form on the planking.

"I don't know. Strong said it makes it taste better. Maybe it dries it out? Makes jerky?"

"Jerked meat, huh?" Hancock replied, that smirk still etched on his features.

 _Well, I would have if the fucking Castle wasn't under attack_. Macha thought bitterly, her sexual frustration getting the best of her. She had to hand it to Hancock. She had been putting him through the same dry spell because of her own doubts and he was handling with more grace and patience than she was now that the tables had turned.

 _The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can focus on other things_ , she thought as she essentially jogged out the door.

Hancock caught up with her, cigarette dangling from his mouth. They rounded the back of some buildings and crossed an old pier, the rotting wood creaking beneath their feet as Macha power stomped the distance away. "What's the hurry? We keep up this pace, we aren't going to have any energy left to fight whatever it is attacking em. And you aren't exactly being discrete. Might as well be yelling, here sniper sniper. "

"I just want to take care of this and get on with my day. Besides, the longer we wait, the more people could get hurt." She picked up speed, her thighs burning as she resisted the urge to run. He did have a point. If she all out sprinted, they'd make up for lost time, but both be fatigued when they arrived. Practicality alone made her check her pace. It was more tactically sound to reserve her energy then just go running headlong into an unknown adversary.

 _Just let it be something easy to dispatch._ She silently prayed. Molerats in the vegetable garden. A few wild mongrels that had pissed on the Castle wall, causing the settlers to freak out. She'd even take on a few disgusting bloat flies that had a penchant for exploding and showering her with their buggy entrails whenever she shot one out of the air. J _ust no giant deathclaws, mutant behemoths, or mirelurk queens, for the love of all that is sacred and holy._

They skirted the inner city roads and walked the coast for several miles, heading towards the peninsula that housed the Castle. Junked cars and garbage blocked their way, causing them to weave in and out of the obstacles. An old army tanker and truck spilled out onto the broken road ahead like a child's forgotten toys, blocking the road. The waves crashed against the sand as the tide came rushing in and the stars were just starting to show, twinkling in the purplish twilight sky. In the dimming light, the dark outline of a figure approached them from a distance, ample hips swaying to and fro as the female form came closer.

Macha shielded her eyes against the dying sunlight, trying to discern who the woman was. The sun was setting behind her, blocking out and details of her face or armaments. Only her curvaceous outline could be seen, stark and black with the background of the radiant sun. Whomever it was, they seemed to have a penchant for black leather. The traveler's outfit gleamed in the twilight, highlights glinting off her assets.

"Well, hello beautiful." Hancock said approvingly, his eyes wandering up and down the woman's body. "One of your people? A provisioner maybe?"

Macha frowned at him, jealousy causing her eyes to narrow. Oh yeah.. he showed interest the stranger with the child bearing hips, but here she was practically throwing herself at him all day and all she had to show for it was a titanic portion of frustration and misplaced ire. She ground her teeth but held her tongue. There were more pressing matters to attend than petty jealously.

"Not sure. I don't see a pack Brahmin and the Castle is still a good mile and a half away. Hard to think someone would just be casually walking down the road if they were under attack." She replied to him. She readied her weapon, just in case and raised her voice, shouting toward the woman. "Are you from the Castle? Is everything ok there?"

Still several hundred feet away, the figure's head snapped in their direction. Then she started running. Not to them, but AT them. Sprinting towards them in at breakneck spread, her arms pumping as her legs hurtled forward and closed the gap between them.

Macha's instincts screamed at her before the words came flying out of Hancock's mouth. The hands. There was something horribly wrong with the shape of the hands. Something unnatural...like claws instead of fingers.

"Oh shit! Assaultron!" Hancock's cigarette fell from his lips as he took cover behind a burnt out car. "Macha get down."

Macha flung herself to the ground as the first burst of a laser blast flew over her head. Scrambling, she took cover next to Hancock. They looked at each other for a brief moment as the clacking of metal on pavement grew louder. This was not good.

"You were the one complimenting it earlier. Go distract it with flattery. Tell it how sexy it is and maybe it won't blow you to bits." She hissed, crawling to the tail end of the vehicle. "I'm going to try and take out it's legs."

John frowned and thumbed his shotgun. He was more of an up close and personal type of fighter. Problem was, you didn't in close range with an assaultron and typically survive. The head mounted laser could kill you in one hit while the claws on each hand crushed and shocked their victims into submission. Then there was the kamikaze explosion that had enough firepower to take out a city block if you did mange to damage it extensively. Even he wasn't crazy enough to directly engage one running right for them.

Macha's sniper rifle fired several shots, the bullets striking metal as he wracked his brain, trying to find a way to be useful at this range. His combat shotgun was virtually useless until it got close enough. He may as well pick up a handful of gravel and throw it at the robot. He checked his coat. One frag grenade, that was all he had left. Not enough to do any real damage. Well, shit.

Movement caught his gaze and his eyes flicked toward the asphalt only a foot or two away from the cover of the car. The coastal breeze blew his cigarette in lazy spirals across the road. Damn, he had wondered where that went to. It was his last one. He peeked his head around the car and assessed the situation.

Macha's rifle had tore one leg off of the assaultron, but it was still coming for them. John took advantage the diversion and left cover, reaching for is cigarette. His scarred fingers had just snagged it from the ground when a green blast of energy struck the road right where his hand had been.

"Take that, you Commie bastard!" The Mister Gutsy leveled it's plasma gun at Hancock's head, firing off several green tinged rounds. "Deadly force is authorized!"

John pulled back just as the bolts struck his prior location, one singing his shoulder. The car rocked with the force of more blasts, the rusted out suspension groaning in protest. _Must have been hiding behind the army tanker_ , he thought peering over the top the car. It was coming in fast and the assaultron had almost reached them. Macha had shot both it's legs off, but it was relentlessly pulling itself forward. Its chassis created a terrible din of metal on concrete as it drug itself over the road. Red energy crackled around its face as the laser powered up.

At least he could do something about it now. He re-lit the remains of his cigarette on the smoldering metal of the bumper. An a direct hit by the plasma gun had caused the aluminum to become partially molten and smoke. He had just taken a drag and lined up a shot with the assaultron's head when the mirelurk rammed its hardened shell into him. His cigarette snapped in two as the force of the blow shoved him face first into the metal of the car body. He grunted as the creature's claw pressed him into the rusting metal hull, squeezing his innards.

It was fortunate he didn't have a nose, or else that would have broken it. A jagged piece of metal cut into his cheek, drawing blood, but one more scar was the least of his concerns. Goddammit, did he have to lose his last smoke? Now he would be jonesing for one until he found another pack.

"Macha, we got company!" He wheezed as the air was forced from his lungs. He used his shotgun as a blunt weapon to batter the crustacean off of him as best he could. The mirelurk skittered away from his blows, backing up and lowering its head to ram him once more. John turned around and rolled to the side as it slammed forcefully into the car. The impact tipped the frame over on its side and the vehicle slid forward a few inches along the road, rocking back and forth.

"Fuck!" Macha screamed as she scrambled to regain her cover. The car's tipping had left her exposed and a shot from the plasma gun caught her in the thigh, tearing through her fatigues and blistering her skin. Hancock saw the ugly red welts spring up on her flesh as she ducked behind a still spinning wheel.

Macha was still firing on the Mister Gutsy and assaultron. She was the only thing keeping the robots at bay, her focus exclusively on them. He heard the assaultron's laser power up once more, this time for the self immolation that would take them all out. Macha didn't see what he did; there wasn't time as she fired shot after shot, trying to take the robots out before the impending explosion.

Hancock cursed, torn between calling her attention away from the robots to the other threat that had appeared. Five looming mirelurks encroaching from behind, flanking them, their huge claws clacking in anticipation. Well, that was just fucking great.

Hancock did the math. They were surrounded and out numbered. NO. He wasn't going out like this. And neither was she. He had planned too much for today to let it end like this. They HAD to get to the Castle. Sometimes to survive out here you had to be either real tough, or real crazy. Tough didn't seem to be working out too well today, so it was time to try crazy.

He fired his shotgun into the exposed belly of the mirelurk that had attacked him. It screeched and hissed at him, but backed off enough for him to do what he had to. Holding his shotgun under his arm, he took out a roll of duck tape and ripped off a long strip with his teeth. Tossing it aside, he pulled out his last frag grenade and taped it to the underside of the vehicle. Then he pulled the pin and grabbed his tricorn. Yes.. sometimes you had to be real tough, sometimes you had to be real crazy, and sometimes you just had to fucking run like hell.

"Macha! Run! Move! To the water! GO!" Sprinting towards her, her grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the sea, it's frothy waves reaching for them as if in welcome.

"Wha-?" She started in confusion, but one look at his face and she was running along side him, no further questions asked.

They dove into the frigid waters as the grenade exploded and the compact nuclear reactor housed within the car's chassis erupted concurrently. The assaultron also unleashed her fiery explosion and the resulting blast caused a mini mushroom cloud to form on the road. It obliterated the robots and the mirelurks and set off a chain reaction that caused the nearby cars to explode.

Macha and Hancock held their breath as a surge of fire passed over the top of the waves, illuminating the dark seas in a flash. The natural sounds of the ocean did little to muffle the deafening boom of the blast and the shock wave stalled the incoming foamy tide for a few moments. Pieces of steel, asphalt, and mirelurk sank into the depths, causing trails of bubbles to ascend around them like an effervescent curtain. The bubbles grazed their clutching hands as John and Macha held on to each other under the murky waters.

Macha held her breath until her lungs burned like they were trapped in the flames of that nuclear blast. She broke the surface with a choking gasp, flotsam rushing towards her as she clumsily paddled to shore. Hancock followed closely behind and they dragged their weary bodies onto the sand.

The night was bathed in fire and guttural flames that licked at the sky as if trying to snatch a wayward star. Splattered chucks of mirelurk shell and meat littered the road and beach. A crater now took the place of the car, the broken asphalt sunken in with jagged pieces slanting in sharp angles, angry and still molten in some places. A column of smoke rose towards the heavens and blotted out the stars that were just making an appearance.

"W-what.. did.. you do?" Macha gasped towards Hancock, laying on her stomach and coughing up water. She was going to need to take copious amounts of radaway. The needle one her Pipboy's Geiger counter was jumping up and down like a kid on a sugar high.

"Had a bright idea." He laughed, standing and brushing the sand off his outfit. He couldn't fucking believe that had worked. He positioned his hat on his head after flinging some of the salt water off the brim and smiled at her. "Nuclear, in fact."

* * *

It was quiet. Too quiet. Macha frowned as they approached the Castle. At first, everything appeared in order. The turrets seemed to all be intact, humming gently in the night; their cadence replacing the evening song of crickets that became extinct when the bombs fell. The walls she and the settlers had fabricated to close off the gaping holes in the crumbling stone were still standing strong and proud. There were no bodies, no recent signs of a battle or struggle, but something seemed off. It took Macha a moment to figure it out. She stood there, head titled to the side as she examined the old fort when it came to her. Like she had just popped a whole tin of mentats, she realized what seemed wrong.

Radio Freedom was dead silent. The typical jaunty patriotic tunes that blared throughout the Commonwealth were absent, making the night seem unnatural and lonelier for their vacancy. Macha felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end; her instincts setting her on edge. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones.

The evening wind rushed over her, the aroma of fire dominating the scent of seas and brine. She wrinkled her nose and inhaled. Oh.. oh no. Was something burning? It smelled like.. meat. What if.. what if what she smelled was charred bodies? Several horrific images flashed through her mind. Possibilities of the Forged making their way across the Commons to raze everything in their path. Or Gunners, with their affinity for laser weapons, blasting their way through the main gates and mowing her people down.

She thought about the assaultron they had met on the road. Gunners did use that model of robot for close combat while they stayed back and picked off targets at long range. Maybe they had finished here and sent it to scout ahead or patrol the area. What if what she was smelling was the burning flesh of her comrades?

 _No, no, no, no._ She thought, panic causing her stomach to sour and her mouth to dry out. She forced herself to slow her pace as the approached the main entrance to the Castle. Her heart lurched when she noticed the doors were ajar, rusty hinges rasping slightly in the wind. Without looking at Hancock, she signaled him to stop and crouched low to the ground.

They crept forward slowly, easing the door open and squeezing through. Heart beat hammering in her ears, her gaze darted around the many dark and concealing entrances to the living areas looking for any sign of danger. There was no cover here, the central part of the Castle too open and barren. Only the empty radio tower or several rows of tall corn could offer marginal concealment and neither were ideal.

 _T_ _he generator is off_ , she noticed as she looked for any sign of a struggle. Someone had strung lights up across the radio tower to the five bastions, creating a spider web effect that would have been lovely had not the power been off. They swayed overhead in the wind like embers gone cold as the couple made their way to the tower. Only the moon, pale and full, crested over the horizon and lit their way.

Macha took cover behind the radio transmitter, scanning for it's operator. She blinked in confusion. There was no blood on the consoles. No expelled bullet casings or fusion cells housings. No body was slumped over in the operator chair as she feared. The switches were even still steadfast in the ON position. Everything just appeared to be powered down which meant the reason it wasn't working was caused by the main generator being shut off.

"Psst!" She hissed at Hancock. "Main generator is offline. I'm going to shut it back on so we can see, but that will alert anyone in the area to our presence. Cover me."

"You got it." His wolfish grin struck a nerve.

Why the hell was he smiling? This wasn't funny. She had just fucking got the Castle back and in working order less than a year ago and wasn't ready to have to reclaim and rebuild it again. That had taken months of excavating rubble and rebuilding walls on top of the typical amenities like fresh water and power. She ground her teeth in agitation as she left cover and crawled toward the main generator. She couldn't see if there was any damage and the switch was on the other side, facing the fort's infrastructure and living areas.

Macha unconsciously held her breath at every painstakingly slow step, knowing she was exposed and could not reach cover in time if a sniper was putting her in scope. The dark shadows stretched out, looming over her, greedy tendrils of inky blackness that beckoned her towards their hidden depths. Half the distance to the generator, she turned back to Hancock for a reassuring glance and almost tripped over her own feet at what she saw.

He had left cover and was casually leaning against one of the poles that supported the radio transmitter's shelter. Just reclining like he didn't give a damn about possibly being mowed down. _What the actual fuck was he doing!?_ Her brain screamed in alarm. _Ha_ _s_ _he lost his damn mind?_

She bit her tongue to keep from yelling at him to get the fuck back down and take cover. Did he want to get his head blown off? Was he that high? Instead, she gestured at him furiously, her hands fluttering about like drunken homing pigeons in a hurricane. She mentally ran through some of the silent hands signals they had practiced from an old military training manual. _You._ _Freeze. Go prone. Sniper._

He just stood there, grinning and cupped a hand around his ruined ear, like he couldn't hear her. This infuriated her more and she tried again, her hands erratic and jerking. If it was possible for hand signals to stutter, she was pulling it off. _YOU! WATCH! ENEMY!_ She signed, huffing in exasperation. She didn't need this. The last thing she wanted was to watch him die on her birthday of all days. On any day. The thought of him lying on the ground, bleeding out, caused her blood to freeze in her veins and her heart to constrict.

He raised a questioning brow at her and made the gesture for shotgun. Making a circle with his thumb and forefinger, he moved his hand in an up and down motion. Whichhhhhh, despite being the legitimate sign for his weapon of choice, actually looked like jerking an imaginary dick off in the air. He pointed to himself and his grin grew broader and he winked at her, his dark eyes sparkling.

 _YOU!_ She signed, gesturing at him. Then she gave him a hand signal that needed no interpretation. She pointedly flipped him the bird. _FUCK YOU!_ Fine, if he wanted to get shot, that was on him! He was crazy and she had tried. She didn't have time for this. If he was about to get shot at, she needed to get clear of the area and get the power back on. At least she could hope she could get to cover and offer him fire support before someone removed his head from his shoulders.

Still smirking, he gave her the ' _point of entry_ ' signal and raised his shoulders in a question. She stared in disbelief, clenching her teeth so hard she thought she heard a cap break. Oh yeah... now he fucking asked that. Macha was five seconds away from hurtling herself at him and throwing him to the ground when he made one final gesture. One digit raised skyward, he moved his hand in a circle. _Turn around_. For further emphasis, he nodded his head towards one of the archways that led inside the fort.

Macha whipped her head around as the lights flared to life. She balked as the radio started back up and the quiet night was engulfed in florescent light and auditory stimulation. She fell backwards on her butt and shielded her face as the brightness overtook her. Spots dancing in her vision, Macha blinked rapidly as shadowy figures emerged from the once dark alcoves. Grey and blubbery in her unadjusted vision, she was unable to discern how many there were or who they were. Shit! The enemy had found them and she was blinded and surrounded. Praying she could take out at least one before they both died, she braced her sniper rifle on her knee and aimed at the nearest one.

"Surprise! Happy Birth-!" Codsworth's jubilant cry was cut short as a bullet whizzed by his ocular unit and embedded itself in the stack of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes he balanced on one clawed arm. The robot's three eyes examined the hole left by the bullet, dismayed as the creamy frosting of one victim splattered all over his immaculate serving tray. "My word, mum! I didn't think you'd be that offended if we threw you a party."

"Codsworth?" Macha questioned, recognizing the staunch British accent of her faithful butler. Her vision was slowly recovering, the gray amorphous shapes taking form before her. "Cait? Nick? Piper? Everyone... what? What's going on?"

"Surprise!" They clamored. All her friends, even Strong and Preston had turned out to watch her make lewd gestures at Hancock and fall on her ass in the dirt.

"Happy Birthday, Macha." Hancock said, a strong hand under her arm, helping her to her feet. "Surprise."

Surprise indeed. Macha's face reflected her confusion as she took everything in, turning red. Settlers were pouring out of the living areas, arms laden with trays of food, alcohol, or tables and chairs. Macha was enlighten to what the earlier smell of cooking meat was as a stalwart settler brandishing a tray of Brahmin steaks walked by. The aroma actually made her mouth water as he placed the tray on a nearby table, next to grilled corn, and a colorful looking mutfruit and melon salad. She gaped as they set out a long dining table and the radio channel was switched to the ever present Classical station. Beethoven's String Quartet No. 12 set the tone as the settlers bustled about, finalizing the party arrangements.

"I...I don't understand." Macha stammered brushing herself off when she got to her feet. She noticed the robot fussing over the cake. "H-how..? Oh. Codsworth! I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you!"

"No harm, madam." The robot replied, gliding over and setting the tray of cakes down on the table. "I suppose that just means our little ruse was a success. Though, your birthday cake may be worse for wear. I'm terribly sorry. That first bite may be a doozy!"

Macha winched at the gaping bullet hole that now adorned the artfully arranged snack cakes. He had even put a single pillar candle in the center, cushioned by the fluffy yellow sponge cakes that spiraled around it. Just one giant candle instead of over two hundred, awaiting to be lit. A perfect imitation of a traditional birthday cake.

"Codsworth, my man." Hancock stated, using his finger to dip up some of the frosting dribbling from the bullet hole and sampled it. "Nice work on the cake."

"The best I could do with limited resources, sir, but it did turn out better than I expected." He shooed Hancock away from the dessert, causing the Ghoul to back away and raise his hands in feigned surrender. "No eating it till the candle is lit and blown out. She has to make a wish. It's tradition."

Unbidden tears threatened the corners of Macha's eyes and she sniffed them back. This was.. too much. She didn't deserve this. "Codsworth, thank you. This is... more than I could have ever dreamed."

"Don't thank me," the robot corrected. "It was Mayor Hancock's idea. The lights, music, food and dancing. I just helped with setting everything up."

"He's being modest." Piper interrupted. "Hancock did come up with the ideas, but it was Codsworth and I that made all the preparations. We got permission from Preston to use the Castle and have been setting this up for weeks. Hancock just had to keep you busy and get you here on time without spoiling the surprise. Which I'm glad to see he didn't, given the flying bullets and all."

Hancock? He had done this? Suddenly, it all made sense. Why he had been talking to Piper that day he came back to town. Why he had insisted on dragging her to the ends of the Commonwealth to that restaurant. Why he had kept brushing her off anytime she wanted to get intimate. He had pressed her to check the time and her Pipboy, knowing that the distress signal would warrant investigation. He had set her up. That sneaky charming rat bastard. She was going to kiss him.. then kill him... or maybe kill him than kiss him. Or maybe she'd skip the whole killing part all together and move on to the kissing.

"Dancing under the lights of Cafe Bella Luna." Macha whispered to herself as she looked up at the strung lights now aglow and swaying gently in time with the classical music. A wave of nostalgia hit her hard and she had to close her eyes to steady herself. A small piece of the past, reclaimed by her friends to give her one night like it had once been. They had done this all... for her. He had done this.. for her. She turned to confront Hancock, but he had already disappeared in the throng of settlers, heading towards Nick as if to avoid the recognition.

Her attention was recaptured by Cait's astute and vivid observation. "The fuckin' hell happened to you? You are all tore up and shite. You an' Hancock get in a wrestling match before getting' here?"

Macha looked down at her torn and filthy clothes, her face turning ruddier. She was a mess, but she had come here expecting a fight, not a party. She wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion with her thigh exposed and blistered and reeking of the ocean. "Ran into an assaultron."

"Oh. Oh my." Piper gasped, taking in Macha's soaking wet, thrashed clothes and sodden, frizzy hair. "Um.. well, Blue, I was gonna give you this later, but um... you may be more in need of it now. Happy Birthday."

Piper handed Macha a parcel wrapped in the latest edition of Publik Occurrences. Macha's lips twitched in an impromptu smile as she unwrapped the gift. "Wrapping paper and propaganda. Nice touch, Piper."

She opened the package to reveal a beaded dress, neatly folded up in the paper. Pale plum shimmering accents winked in the light and a twisted shawl of silk draped across the shoulders with thin spaghetti straps that held it in place. There was also a pair of black and white heels tucked under the fabric. Macha fought harder to restrain her tears. "It's gorgeous. Thank you."

"Yeah. Better 'an what you are currently wearin'." Cait pointed out. "Go get dolled up, birthday girl. I'm gonna hit the bar an' maybe on that guy who brought out the steaks. Always did love me a good cut of meat. I'll save you a shot... if you hurry."

Cait licked her lips and took off towards the alcohol, any settlers in her path wisely scrambling out of the way. Macha fingered the luxurious fabric of the dress and hugged Piper. "Thank you!"

"No problem." Piper said, awkwardly patting her back and wrinkling her nose. "Just go change..errr.. soon. You smell … intense."

Macha released her friend if only to spare the woman's garments from a similar fate."Right. I'm going to make myself presentable and then come back and mingle. I don't want to miss out on all the dancing and food."

Macha eyeballed Strong. All of the other attendees were politely waiting until she got her plate as the guest of honor. The super mutant, however, had about six fat steaks in his oversized hand, grease dripping down his arm. Lifting one skyward, he dropped it in his mouth and chewed twice before swallowing it whole. He didn't look like he intended to stop anytime soon. "And I think I'd better hit the buffet before Strong goes through all the food and starts asking where we serve the milk of human kindness."

Macha took off towards her quarters, leaving Piper to watch the giant consume another steak. "Better hurry," she called over her shoulder. "Before Cait gets the bright idea to direct him to the bar. I do not want to see what happens when a super mutant gets drunk and tries to dance."

* * *

Flipping the holo over in his burnt fingers, Hancock inspected it for any sign of damage. He hadn't intended on taking a dip in the ocean and hoped the damn thing was water proof. Otherwise he was out a thousand caps and had nothing to give Macha for her birthday. It was a little scuffed up, but seemed no worse for wear.

"What happened? You were supposed to set off a flare to let us know you were close. Not a bomb." Nick said.

"I improvised." Hancock shrugged, tucking the holo back in his pocket. "You know me, Nick. I like to make an entrance. You got any smokes?"

"Yeah." The detective reached into his trench and produced a pack, handing it to Hancock. "Try not to light anything else on fire with them."

"Come on, Nick." Hancock lit a cigarette and taking a long drag. His eyes closed in pleasure as he exhaled into the night sky. "You know I don't make promises I can't keep."

"Uh huh." The synth detective mused. "Nice thing you did here. Setting this whole thing up for Macha. I'm sure she will appreciate it."

Hancock dismissed the compliment, blowing another smoke ring into the indigo sky. "I didn't do much. Just had some ideas. Piper and Codsworth did most of the work. I just had to get her here in one piece and on time."

"That so? Well, what ever you did," He nodded his head in the general direction over Hancock's shoulder. "I'd say it worked. Haven't seen her smile like that in a long time."

John turned and almost swallowed his cigarette. Macha had returned from her quarters, decked out in a lavender gown that shimmered and sparkled around her whenever she moved. Her hair was down from it's typical pony tail, clean and slightly wavy as it dried in the cool night air. She floated across the ground, like a Miss Nanny robot as she shook hands with several settlers and made small talk with them. Macha caught his eye and dipped her head in a coy manner, the telltale flush of embarrassment only accenting her gray eyes. And yes, she was smiling. A genuine charming grin that emanated from her like radiation that even he wasn't immune too. Her flashing eyes and sensuous smile spanned the distance between them, all for him.

"She cleans up nice, huh?" Valentine said with a wry pat on Hancock's back. "What are you waiting for? Go get her, partner."

Casting his smoke into the dirt, Hancock cleared his throat and approached her trying to control the desire he felt welling up inside. Go get her, Valentine had said. If only the detective knew how hard he had worked to get her here for this celebration. She had tempted him so many times, whittling away at his already limited self control. Teasing him, straddling him, and essentially tearing his clothes off him desperation despite his attempts to direct her attention elsewhere. He found little solace in the fact she had to be just as frustrated as he was. John had spent the entire day fighting both his and her urges, having to remember that he had a deadline or the entire surprise would have been ruined. It had been harder to restrain himself than giving up chems cold turkey to take care of Vic and his boys. But, now they were here, the reveal a success, and all he could think about was peeling that dress off her and smothering her body with his own.

Suppressing a sigh, he weaved his way through the well wishers and took his place by her side. Despite how very much he wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her back to her quarters and ravish her all night, this party was for her and he wasn't going to deny her that. He had waited this long, what was just a bit longer?

He was going to need a drink though in order to make it through the night and restrain himself. He caught sight of her shapely ass, taunt and firm under the shimmering fabric and realized no panty lines were visible. She caught him looking and baited him with a sultry wink that confirmed his suspicions before returning to chat with a mousey settler. She wasn't wearing underwear. He was possibly going to need several drinks... and some chems.. and a goddamn fucking miracle. Self restraint was not one of his stronger attributes.

"Sorry to interrupt." He placed his hands on her shoulders, thumbing the mole the peeked out under the thin strap of fabric that held her dress up. "But I believe I owe the General a dance."

The settler graciously bowed out of the conversation, leaving Macha and Hancock to their own devices. Without waiting for a response, he took her hand and guided her to the open area under the lights that was reserved for dancing. The silver moon hung in the sky like dazzling starlet, surrounded by the a cascade of stars the winked on and off like paparazzi taking flashing photographs. The song on the radio had just switched to a waltz, with gently rising cellos and horns to set the pace and genial tone of the piece. The notes resounded off the stone walls of the old fort, making it the perfect amphitheater as some onlookers gathered to watch.

"Oh.. you owe me more than a dance."

Hancock gave her a gallant bow and placed his hand on her shoulder blade. Drawing her close, he waltzed her around to the Blue Danube, the slow build into a tumultuous dance a perfect metaphor for their relationship. She swayed her hips lithely to the tempo as they box stepped around the grounds, not caring that their shoes were becoming covered in the dust or they were gathering a crowd.

"Do I?" Hancock asked innocently as he led her into an underarm turn. Macha giggled in delight as she spun, her dress swirling about her as she rejoined him and continued waltzing. "Am I in trouble?"

"Definitely." She responded, brushing closer to him than the dance required. Her hip grazed his lions in a suggestive manner as they side stepped into a turn reminding him about her lack of under garments. He ground his teeth together and dipped her slightly and they glided across the floor, their feet moving in confident strides. They had found their rhythm, springing through turns and spins, their focus only on each other. She arched her neck as she came out of a turn and John's covetous gaze took in every detail as she reversed with her back to him, their arms entwined as the waltzed forward. It was no accident when her ass grazed against his cock, the slippery thin fabric of her dress gliding across him.

"Let's go. Now." He all but growled into her hair as discreetly as he could, forgetting about his earlier determination to let her enjoy the party. He could smell the soap she had used to wash her hair. The scent tantalized him like the fragrance of some exotic bloom just opening it's petals for the first time to the morning sun. He wanted her. Now. Enough with the waiting.

"Dancing stupid." Strong said around a mouthful of steak as he watched the pair pirouette around. "Human and Ghoul should fight. Would be much better."

Macha reverse turned again, now facing Hancock as the song wound down and ended. With a grin too wide to be chaste, she curtsied, signaling the end of the dance. "I'd love to, but aren't you forgetting something?"

"No." He flatlined, not liking where this was going; the opposite direction of to her quarters.

"The time," She indicated her Pipboy, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "It's steak time. I can't miss steak time. Or cake time. Or present time either. I do have responsibilities after all."

John frowned as she used his earlier words against him. Well, this was apparently payback for the hand gestures or maybe he was the only one sexually frustrated, after all.

"Steak good, but human taste better." Strong interjected, surveying the settlers who wisely backed away from the brute. "But these look stringy. Eat more, humans. Next time not be so skinny. Then will taste better."

Macha barely suppressed a laugh. "You heard the man," she announced to her people. "Let's eat!"

* * *

"Mweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" The party favor noise the Vault-Tec lunchbox emitted caused Macha to jump in her seat. Confetti sprayed everywhere like the plumage of bird that had eaten Alka Seltzer, showering her chest and hair with the colorful flecks of paper. Goddammit. Every time she opened one of these things, they gave her a mini heart attack and she had no idea why. She knew what to expect and it still startled her every damn time.

She tipped the box forward and her present tumbled into her awaiting hands. "It's some brass knuckles. Thank you, Cait. That's.. very.. useful."

"You're damn right, it is." The fighter slurred, gesturing with the bottle of whiskey she had gleaned from the bar. "You come to me when you want to learn how to use em. I'll teach you how to knock a man's teeth so far down his throat, he'll shite them out for a week."

Macha slipped the brass knuckles over her fingers and brandished them for all to see. _Well, at least it wasn't another weapons mod_ , she thought. A great pile of mods had amassed near her right arm, many for weapons she didn't favor or even really know how to use. It had been a very sweet gesture by the settlers and probably all they could come up with or afford, but she had no idea what she was going to do with them.

"Here," Nick placed a desk fan down on the table in front of her. "I seem to recall you having an affinity for these. At least, you never passed up the chance to pick one up when we were traveling together. Sorry it isn't wrapped."

"Nick, you shouldn't have." Macha snickered, examining the fan. Well, at least her close friends understood her. It was surprisingly unrusted, the blades still able to turn freely and without squeaking. There was no way this was getting scrapped. "This will be a wonderful addition to my office on those hot days. Thank you."

"Any time, my friend. Next birthday, I'll find you an alarm clock to go with it. I know how much you like those too. Happy birthday, Macha."

"Time for cake!" Codsworth brought forth the stacked Fancy Lads Snack Cake. The candle in the center was lit, the flame flickering in the wind. The robot set the tray in front of Macha and she noticed he had tidied up the frosting splatter. He backed away, eye stalks brimming with anticipation. "Make a wish!"

Her eyes flitted from one person to another. She had lost so much, yes but she had gained as much in return. An admirable goal. She took in the dirty smiling faces of the settlers with a sense of pride. Her people, good people just trying to carve out a niche of their own in a hostile world. They had all come so far. They were all surviving in a world full of harshness and cruelty.

A home. The wind whistled through the Castle, setting the lights to dance their own waltz. Good solid walls to protect the innocent and a solid foundation for the Minutemen to stand on. Something to represent what she was trying to accomplish. Unity among the Commonwealth, regardless of race or species. And here they were, human, ghoul, synth, and super mutant. All coexisting together, even for a night. It gave her hope, and that was something she had not had in a long time.

Friends. She focused on those closest to her. Cait saluted her with her liquor bottle and proceeded to chug the rest of the alcohol. Strong was still working on finishing the remaining steak, neither knowing nor caring what the silly humans were doing. Piper and Nick beamed at her, and even Preston stopped judging her long enough to tilt his head in acknowledgment. They weren't perfect and each had flaws, but she loved them just the same.

Family. Her eyes locked on to Hancock's onyx pupils. Their private smile passed between them as he watched her. Someone she could trust completely. Someone she could be herself with. Someone she could give herself to and know that he would still be there in the morning despite how crazy, stubborn, and irrational she could be. Someone to love her even when she couldn't love herself.

There was only one thing missing. Shaun. Macha felt a stab of heartache and fought back tears, forcing her tormented heart to let go of the pain. Her son was out there, somewhere, and she didn't care if she had to walk through Hell barefoot to find him. She would stop at nothing to get her child back. Macha stared at the flame as it rose from the wick, shifting from blue to yellow and vibrant orange as it burned away.

 _My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—It gives a lovely light_! There was only one thing left to wish for. One piece that would complete her shattered world. A missing sliver of a mirror, that once reunited with the other parts, would allow her to be whole again and could gaze upon her reflection without revulsion, bitterness, or sorrow. Her lips pursed as she in took a breath of air, her lungs expanding. _Help me find my son, please. Light the way to him._ Closing her eyes, Macha expelled her breath and made a wish she profoundly hoped someone would hear.

* * *

The click of the door latch behind her made Macha's heart leap into her throat like a startled radstag. She gulped, her earlier confidence dissipating as the trench coat clad figure that was Hancock turned to welcome her. Waiting for her in the dark of the night, like a predator stalking its prey.

She steeled her thrumming heartbeat as his eyes seemed to pierce through the dim light of her quarters. They stood their, assessing one another, like enemies about to engage in combat, each waiting for the other to make a move. Licking her lips she covered the ground between them in two long strides. She was tired of wanting and waiting. She needed him now.

His hands were upon her, enveloping her as their bodies collided, Macha tugging his jacket off him with such fervor he heard the already patched shoulder rip. He helped her relieve him of the cumbersome coat, tossing it and his hat aside. With a click that seemed louder than normal, he popped the lock on her Pipboy and slid it off her arm. A ring of pale skin indicated it's place on her forearm and he massaged the untanned skin as if to bring some color to it. Bestowing a kiss on her arm, he slid his hands down her backside, searching out her zipper.

Macha shuddered as he turned her around, levying kisses and nips down her goose prickled back, shoulders, and neck. Gods, she need this. Only he could take her away from all the madness of this world, more soothing than the most powerful chem. His touch was addicting and always left her wanting more. She guided his hands over her body as his mouth sought out her the tender spot where her neck joined her shoulder. She moaned lightly when his rough fingers slid under the silk shawl and between her breasts, coaxing her nipples into stiff peaks.

Macha felt a flush of embarrassment when she realized how quickly her body responded to his tender ministrations. She was rampant with need, aching for him. Rogue spread across the swell of her breasts as he pressed his warm body against her. His short nails grazing her thigh as his other hand lifted up her dress. Why had she thought teasing him by not wearing underwear was a good idea?

A slightly intelligible sound escaped her lips as his fingers stoked between her legs. He held her close, refusing to let go as he slid his texture fingers deep inside her, the dress bunched up around her hips as his strong hands worked on her body.

"You are soaking, love." He growled in her ear. His voice sent chills down her spine: That low rumble it took on when he was serious awoke the primal urges in her body, vibrating down her back and heightening her sensitive skin. "You should go without underwear more often. Easier access. That way I can make you tremble like this anywhere I want."

The last few words echoed in her mind and thought of him touching her like this throughout the Commonwealth caused her legs to quake with desire. It excited her that he wanted her so much. Too soon, he withdrew his fingers from her wetness in order to remove her dress.

His mouth continued to draw out soft gasps while he unzippered her gown. Hancock trailed his fingertips down her sides, gently biting the shoulder blade that sported her intriguing mole. She hissed in pleasure as his teeth reddened her skin and the soft brush of his lips that followed soothed it. She never did understand his fascination with her mole, but hey, whatever worked for him. She certainly wasn't complaining. Pushing the straps off her shoulders, the garment fell to the ground in a heap. Her bra followed and Hancock appraised her body as the lights cast shadows over her every curve and divot.

Hancock stopped and looked at her arm. The bandage was still there, unnoticed for the entire evening as it was covered by the draped fabric. He could see angry red marks peeking out just under the bandage. The wound was fresh and had not been there earlier, at the restaurant. Macha covered her arm, self conscious. "It's my fault," she said by way of explanation. "I keep scratching it."

"Maybe you should see a doctor, love." The concern was apparent in his tone. He was worried about her.

"I will. I promise. Let's not talk about that now. Please." Macha faced her lover, caressing his cheek, tracing a line in the marred flesh down to his neck and chest. He had done this.. all for her. How the hell did she ever get so lucky? She had nothing to give him that could ever show him how much this meant. It threatened to bring her to her knees, she was so overwhelmed with love for him.

She opened her mouth to tell him. To let the words spill out like the fountain of emotion that overflowed her heart. Instead, she whispered, her voice cracking. "I want you."

That damn smartass grin appeared on his face, making a slight dimple she had never noticed appear. "I know."

His lips parted hers and she sank deeper into him, losing all trace of the passage of time. Hands deftly unbuckled the belt of his bandolier and it – with his shirt and over shirt- disappeared into some unknown corner of the room.

Macha smirked as she tugged on his pants, undoing the top buttons and pulling them down after she flung his sash to the side. She unconsciously swallowed as she examined him. Like the rest of his body, the burns were extensive. No hair enhanced his male hood, which was fiercely erect from their contact. Her eyes traced the texture along his cock, thick and red with a labyrinth of veins and scars. Hancock gently cupped her face, bringing her gray eyes up to meet his dark ones.

"It's still me." He said, closing the gap between them. She shook her head. She didn't care. She didn't care what anyone thought or what he looked like. She wanted him.

"I know." She rose up to meet him, giving him a reassuring kiss. "It's just-"

"Not what you were expecting?"

"Errr... more so just different. But different doesn't mean bad."

"I can make a Red Rocket joke if it would help."

Macha laughed despite herself and smacked him gently on his bare chest. "That's so not sexy." She said still fighting to hold back her laughter. She snorted in the effort.

"Love, with me, everything it sexy."

He flashed her that cocky grin and she lost it that time. Laughing and lowering her defenses. She drew him into a kiss, their naked skin touching; any slight reservations she may have had, now gone.

"Well," She replied. "Even as a lawyer, I can't argue with that."

She ran her hand along his length, enjoying how his eyes slitted with pleasure at her touch. Guiding him to her bed, she pushed him down as he let her take control.

Emboldened, Macha knelt down and took him in her mouth. He laced his fingers through her hair as her tongue experimentally licked and tasted him. His unusual eyes never left hers as she swallowed his whole length, causing him to moan. The desire etched on his face made Macha feel powerful as she concentrated on his pleasure. It was her turn to make his legs give out under him. The texture was strange to her, but she ignored it, instead focusing on the way his fingers twitched in her hair or the noises he made as her tongue swirled over him. His upper lip twitched as she sucked on the delicate spot just under his head. A victorious smile crept across her face as his breath hitched and his toes began to curl.

"No.. more."

Macha pretended to pout but stopped with one last defiant lick. "But I was just getting started."

He gazed at her with such adoration, Macha felt shy. She tried to avert her eyes, but his gentle hand on her face brought her back to him.

"Never expected to meet my match. You are my missing piece, you know that?" Hancock was breathless as he ran his fingers through her still damp hair. One finger outlined her lower lip as she crawled over him, kissing him as he rose up to meet her and embrace her. He wanted to touch every inch of her porcelain skin and feel her body's reaction.

"I know." She replied, her hair falling in her eyes. He ran his finger across the nape of her neck, closing his eyes as he slid into her. They both gasped at the sensation, Macha wrapping her legs around his waist wanting every inch inside her. Hancock rested his forehead on hers, eyes closed, simply relishing the sensation of being joined with her. His missing piece. Finally, after so long, he was complete and wanted for nothing. It was better than any chem he had ever taken and he wanted it to last forever. Like the waltz, they gradually found their rhythm; moving in harmony, his hands guiding her hips, her fingers in his back, as they moved together.

Macha moaned in his ear, her voice pitched low in pleasure. The texture of him inside her was sublime. Every ridge and bump setting her nerves alight with passion. She ground her hips against him, the roughness of his skin brushing her swollen clit with every thrust. Macha surrendered to him, allowing him to complete her as he made her his with each vivid stroke.

He increased the tempo of their dancing, turning their waltz into a salsa as he felt her excitement. A thin sheen of sweat made her body glisten like she was a priceless treasure, brilliant and forbidden. She arched her back and rode him, lost to the ecstasy of their union as her breath came in quick pants.

"Come for me, Macha." He command in a rasping voice, the pads of his fingers seeking her cleft, circling her bud. He could feel her tightening around him, her white hot folds of her sex enveloping him as the pressure built for both of them.

"John!" She dug her nails into his back as she came, crying out loudly, her body wracked with almost violent shudders. Hancock kept up his pace, drawing out her euphoria as much as he could and angled his hips to strike the sweet spot just a few inches inside her. The smell of her body and sound of her voice calling out is name drove him over the edge and he released himself inside her with a groan.

"Mmmm." She mumbled as both hands cupped his face and they rested their foreheads together, each panting and inhaling the others breath. "Why did we wait so long to do that?"

"Been wonderin that myself for a while now."

They chuckled together and disengaged from one another, flopping on the bed, both utterly exhausted.

"Best birthday ever." Macha said into her pillow, her legs still quivering.

"This concludes the tour. But I'm required to do a feedback survey after. Company policy. I take customer satisfaction very seriously."

"Obviously," Macha opened one eye and snuggled into his inviting arms. "Well, let me put it this way. You know when you asked my what my ride of choice was? And told me you prefer mentats?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I now have a new answer. And it has nothing to do with chems."

"Another glowing review. I'll have to update my resume."

She felt his fingers seeking out the mole on her shoulder, tracing circles around it in a lazy motion as they basked comfortably in the afterglow.

"Uh... speaking of glowing.. I hate to be that ghoul, but ..you ..uh.. may want to take some radaway."

Giggling, Macha smacked him in the chest, thinking he was playing.

"No, I'm completely serious. I am irradiated after all."

Macha turned a glared at him, a brief flicker of horror appearing on her face before she could disguise it. He told her this NOW?! She wrestled with the panic she momentarily felt, then decided that wasn't so bad. She could live with it. After all, how was it any different than taking birth control pills? At least getting pregnant was something they didn't have to worry about.

"Oh. Well, that explains the warm and tingly sensation."

"Nah, that's just skill, love. Give credit where credit is due. Of course, you can not take the radaway and end up looking like me. You'd make one hell of a ghoul."

Macha thought about it for a split second before deciding ghoulified Macha was atrocious. Not just the dried skin, but body parts falling off randomly. She may have gotten accustomed to Hancock, but seeing her own body go through those changes would horrify her. "Um. No. I like my skin where it is, thank you. Besides what would you do if my ass fell off one day?"

"Be a very depressed man. May even take to chems and drinking to cope with the loss."

"Speaking of loss, I always thought you were kidding about the toe. What happened there?" She had notice his pinkie toe missing when she had been in the process of making them curl.

"All I can say is, mole rats do not like to spoon." He tucked one arm behind his head. Macha wondered if he was think about her looking like a ghoul and then imagining screwing her as said ghoul. Knowing him, probably.

Macha snorted, "Enough said. I don't think I want to know."

"Probably safer that way for both of us." He sat up suddenly, disturbing Macha as he sprung from the bed. "Shit!"

"What?" Macha clung to the blanket in alarm. Had he heard something? She watched with open curiosity as he fetched something out of his coat and picked up her Pipboy, bringing them to her.

"Almost forgot," He handed her an orange holo and her personal computer. "Your birthday present. Happy Birthday."

Macha shook her head and smirked. "Because the surprise party and incredible sex wasn't enough?"

"Eh. I'm an over achiever." He crawled back in bed with her, sitting up so she could rest her head on his chest with an arm around her shoulders. He had also grabbed his smokes, and with practiced ease, tapped a cigarette out if the pack and lit it.

"Don't set the bed on fire." Macha lectured as she snapped the locks in place, once again securing the Pipboy on her arm. She popped the holo in and waited for it to load.

"Why does everyone keep telling me that today?"

"Because they know you. I-" Macha's voice cut of with a stifled cry. Her hand covered her mouth and tears threatened at the corner of her eyes as the holo finally loaded. Staring back at her, basked in the glow of the screen, sat an image of waterlilies serenely floating among the shade of trees. Hues of verdant green, creamy whites and deep blues formed the picture, the detail was so vivid, she could see every sure and masterful brushstroke.

To the side of the image in the neon green font of the Pipboy sat the description. _White and yellow Water Lilies_ , (1915–1917) _Claude Monet._ Not the same painting from the library, but a masterwork. One in a series of his studies on water lilies.

"I thought you may like to keep it with you. Since you know, we saw it at the library and... you... you are .. crying.. shit."

Macha shook her head, choking back a sob. The tears flowed freely down her face try as she might to staunch their escape. She had never seen anything so beautiful. These weren't tears of sorrow, but joy. To hold a small piece of history in her hand, it felt like reclaiming a little of the past; a bit of the beauty that time and bombs had destroyed. Where had he found this? How did he even get his hands on this? And he had done it for her.

Hancock awkwardly rubbed his hand over his bald head, thinking she hated the gift. "Shit, Macha. I'm sorry. This is why I got no taste for art. I thought-"

His apology was silenced by her lips pressing against his. He could taste the saltiness of her tears as she rendered him speechless with the ardor behind her embrace.

"It's perfect. You're perfect." She stammered, wiping away her tears and regaining control once more.

"Tell me something I don't know." He joked, trying to lighten the mood, wiping an errant tear from her cheek.

"I love you." Macha blurted out, then blushed, insecurity causing her to turn away. Stupid. Had she really just blurted it out like that? Stupid stupid stupid.

John smiled, bringing her face up to his. "Never would have expected that lapse in judgment from you. But guess that works out for me then, doesn't it. I'm all yours. As a matter of fact let me show you again. Just in case you have any doubts."

Macha followed his gaze. He was hard again, his rigid member standing proud and eager to please.

"Again?" Macha squeaked. Oh good lord. She didn't know if her body could take this. Her legs were still numb and then there was the rads and...

Macha's brain shut off and her mental protests died as Hancock pushed her back and started trailing his tongue down her stomach. She grabbed onto the bed railing as he parted her legs and kissed her inner thighs, lavishing them with attention.

"Again." He replied. She witnessed a confident smirk form on his face before it disappeared between her legs.

* * *

Hancock stared at the ceiling, slowly blinking as he counted the bricks on the wall once again. The dim glow of a lamp highlighted the gray mortar of each stone as his eyes bounced from one to another. Thirty five. Thirty six. Thirty seven. Christ, even the chems weren't helping him sleep tonight.

Besides him, Macha sighed blissfully as she slumbered. She murmured softly and unconsciously scooted closer to him, seeking out his warmth. With a loving gaze, he cradled her in his arms and watched her nestle into his chest and resume her light almost cute snoring. It had been a good day.. and an even better night. He should have been happy, falling into a stoned and dreamless sleep. Yet, sleep eluded him this night. How strange it was that they had reversed roles. Macha, who had once awoke every night drenched in sweat and trembling with terror, lay now in quiet repose besides him while he was forced to count the bricks that held up this crumbling fort.

In his mind, he replayed over and over again his interaction with Bunker Hill. Before returning to Sanctuary, he had stopped by for a friendly heart to heart with Kessler. Despite his infamous notoriety or even him owing them a favor, the caravaners had refused to resume their trade routes, citing their losses and that Sinjin was too unpredictable. No one wanted to get on the raider's bad side or risk his earning his wrath. It rankled him, both that Sinjin held more sway then his reputation and that he had brokered no deals. He had left the place without any progress, his people still starving, and the pain in the ass raider still at large. Reputation was everything in Goodneighbor, and the longer Sinjin kept squeezing him, the more he lost his hold on the city. Groups like the Triggermen were just the beginning. There were a lot of people seeking to wrestle control from him and he had done a lot of killing to keep that kind away from his town.

John watched Macha, wondering what she would do if she was in his shoes. She was well respected and loved by her people. She would have found a solution already, even if it meant taking a mini nuke to every raider hideout in the area. What was he doing here? Having a good time while his people suffered? Guilt and shame washed over him. He had run from his responsibilities again and when his people needed him the most. Macha.. she would never do that. She always put others above herself, even if it killed her. That was why he couldn't leave. Who would watch her back if he went back home? Who would keep her safe and made sure she came back to him?

 _Wouldn't you do the same for Goodneighbor? All your citizens? Wouldn't you do anything to protect and keep them safe? Isn't that the whole reason you became John Hancock?"_ Her voice echoed on his mind. Her accusations of the night of the USS Constitution. She was right.. about everything. It was the reason he had become Hancock. To make sure Goodneighbor never fell into the hands of assholes like Vic or Sinjin again. Of the people, for the people.

Fahrenheit's plan wasn't really all that bad, was it? His bodyguard did have a point. Rep ruled the streets and a powerful man like Sinjin would not appreciate being made a fool out of by some costumed freak. He could just... point Macha in the right direction. Just have her take out a few lowlife scum of Sinjin's just enough to draw the bastard out. She didn't have to get involved beyond that. There was minimal chance she would get hurt. Then he could just quietly dispose of the asshole.

He rebuked himself for the selfish thought. No, not her. He had used a lot of people to get where he was in life, but did not wish to include her among them. He'd find another way. He had too. His people were counting on him.

He sighed and shifted slightly, kissing Macha on the forehead as she mumbled in protest at the gap between them. Her arm flopped around his chest, quelling whatever discontentment she had and she went back to snoring. John smiled at the sight of her, ever so sightly drooling form as he realized this was the first night she hadn't used chems to go to sleep. Well, he'd just have to wear her out every night. It was a hard job, but one he'd be willing to take up. Can't be in a relationship without making some sacrifices, after all.

The white bandage on her arm caught his attention again. He couldn't believe that wound still lingered. It had been months and he had seen her take stims to recover from other injuries. He frowned, carefully working the edge of the binding down an inch. Crusty scabs encrusted her upper arm, sections of the flesh appearing to have been gouged out in half moon shaped chunks. Finger nail marks. The scratches and welted puckered skin hurt to even look at. His frown deepened as he pulled the bandage back up. What the hell? If anything, it seemed self inflicted. Alarm and dread knotted his stomach into a pretzel. Still.. she had told him as much... had promised she would go see a doctor. He trusted her and she seemed fine. He was worrying too much.. about everything. He'd figure something out, he always did.

He popped another mentat and resumed counting bricks as he waited for either sleep or a bright idea to come upon him.


	16. Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Nantucket Police office & the Castle
> 
> Warning: hinted smut and cursing
> 
> Listening to: Fire and Honor- Epica
> 
> Animals- Nickleback
> 
> Toxic- Brittney Spears
> 
> Familiar Taste of Poison, Dirty Work, Innocence & I'm Not an Angel- Halestorm
> 
> Emperor's New Clothes and Miss Jackson- Panic at the Disco

"Good morning sunshine," Hancock whispered in Macha's ear as his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close.

"Hhuhhh… " Macha mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. A long string of drool trailed from her lips to her arm, leaving a wet path on her bicep as if a snail had crawled over her skin. Macha's eyes snapped open when she realized what the cold slimy sensation was and quickly wiped it up, praying Hancock didn't notice. He did, naturally.

"Sleep well I take it?" His breath tickled her ear, just a hint of a laugh hiding behind his raspy tone.

"Mmmm. Your fault." Macha rolled into his arms and kissed him good morning. "Hi."

"Hi." Her bedhead reflected in his dark eyes as he caressed her face, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Look at you. I must still be dreamin."

Brow furrowing, Macha examined his visage. He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken and hooded, slowly blinking as if not quite present. "You ok? You look like you didn't sleep at all."

"Yeah. I'm alright. Just a bit hung over."

"It was a crazy night huh?" Macha had a wistful thought wishing he still had a nose. She wanted to beep it playfully, if only to see his reaction. She stifled a yawn and ran her hands over his chest, still fascinated by the maze of scars and twisted tissue. She didn't think she'd ever get tired of exploring it and feeling the rough texture under her fingertips. Her ears perked up at the sound reverberating through the stone walls. The classical station was still on and Peer Gynt's Morning could be heard playing to the awaking fort, reminiscent of a scene from a Saturday morning cartoon. Macha giggled at the thought of cartoon versions of them, running around the wastes getting into all kinds of slap stick trouble.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just random thoughts." She replied, stretching her arms as she left the bed and started donning her uniform. "You know, like.. what a cartoon deathclaw would look like? Or who runs the Classical station?"

John took his shirt from her offered hand and slipped it over his head. He had never thought of that. Kent obviously ran the Silver Shroud and some kid named Travis ran Diamond City Radio. "No idea. Why?"

Macha shrugged as she buckled her chest plate on. "Just.. I don't know. Seems like no matter how far we go in the Commonweath I can always get signal. The only other station that does that is Diamond City Radio. Seems like someone would know it's origin. Gotta be a pretty powerful transmitter to be able to broadcast that far."

"No more mentats for you." Hancock joked. "It is way to damn early to think about shit like that."

Macha sat next to him and pulled on her boots. "Speaking of which, I'm surprised Preston has gone this long without-"

Her sentence was interrupted by a knock on the door. Hancock and Macha eyed each other with trepidation. It could only be...

"General," Though muffled through the heavy wood door, Preston's voice felt like an icepick driven through Macha's spine. "When you've got a moment, I've got something that needs your attention."

"Christ." Macha mumbled before projecting her voice. "Sure. Just give me a second. I'm coming."

Hancock wrapped his arms around her and nibbled on her neck, pulling her back towards him. "Not yet.. but that can be arranged," he whispered in her ear. "Want to make him stand out there and see how quiet you can be? One sexual favor of my choosing says I make you cry out in less than fifteen minutes."

Macha blushed at his impromptu version of a sexy game of quiet. It was surprisingly tempting and thought turned her on, making her flush even more with embarrassment and a touch of shame. She felt a rush of desire when she imagined Hancock fingering her as she struggled to maintain control and bite back any sound of pleasure. What the hell kind of power did this man hold over her to even entertain such thoughts? It wasn't right. Wasn't proper or decent or.. anything she should even be considering. Preston was right there, right outside the door for god's sake.

His hands were already unbuttoning her pants, deftly sliding under the hem of her worn jeans and working their way down the delicate path of skin that lead from her navel to her soft lips. Instead of pushing his hand away like the more rational part of her mind was begging her to do, Macha leaned back into him, spreading her legs wider to allow him easier access. The pad of one of his fingers found her delicate pearl, rolling the receptive nub in tortuous leisurely rhythms. Macha licked her lips, still warring with what her body wanted and the scolding her mind was giving her.

"He's waiting." It sounded more like a plea or whimper than the stern tone she had meant to inflect. This wasn't right.. she shouldn't like this. Her body should not be responding in this way. She should stop this... but she really didn't want to.

"Let him." Hancock kiss was demanding, almost rough in his need, his teeth grazing her bottom lip. His voice held a hint of possessiveness, claiming her much like his mouth had. "You are mine."

* * *

Preston sighed as he leaned against the Castle wall. What the hell was taking her so long? Her 'just a second' had turned more into ten minutes. Didn't she know that settlements were counting on her? Every moment wasted was the potential of another life lost or of another prospective establishment that slipped through their fingers. Then again, why should he be surprised? She was already on chems and possibly addicted to them. Since they had first met she had gone from a sweet demure and intelligent woman, to a crass chem user and drinker who cursed more than the average raider. Which was something in of itself since raiders tended to have a limited vocabulary, mostly which consisted of curse words.

He was... disappointed in her. He had thought they were like minded. Honorable and just trying to do the right thing because it was the right thing to do. Because so many other people in the Commonwealth either couldn't or simply wouldn't put their life on the line to protect the innocent. True she still preformed her duties as General, but she didn't seem to care quite as much as she used to. Every time he approached her, this look of annoyance flitted across her features, like she was going through the motions, but really didn't want the responsibility of being General anymore.

Maybe he had made a mistake asking her to lead the Minutemen. She certainly wasn't setting the best example at the moment, especially running around with a ghoul of Hancock's reputation. His brow furrowed at the thought of the infamous ghoul. He knew that Hancock was responsible for her downfall. He could see it every time they took off together. She came back a little gaunter, just a bit more worn down, a bit more savage and irresponsible. Why couldn't she see it? And more importantly, how could he help her see it? He couldn't just stand back and watch her downward spiral into a free fall. It wasn't just that she was his leader and friend.. he had even entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe... they could have been something more. She was unlike anyone in the Commonwealth, battling raiders and a deathclaw to help them knowing they had nothing to offer but gratitude. It was that selfless and benevolent act that sparked his attraction to her. He had foolishly thought that together, they could change the Commonwealth for the better. Yet, she had just lost her husband and he hadn't wanted to seem disrespectful, so he had kept things professional between them. And then Hancock had shown up and suddenly his opinion no longer mattered. Preston felt helpless as he stood on the sidelines watching as the ghoul and this world warped and twisted Macha into something unrecognizable.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound coming from her quarters. Mistaking the cry for one of pain, Preston pushed off from the stone wall and knocked on the door again, a bit more forcefully this time. "General? Every thing ok?"

A few moments ticked by before her slightly breathless answer came through the door. "Yeah... I .. uh.. just hit my shin...on my desk."

"You need some help?"

"No!.. I mean...I'm fine. Everything is fine. Thank you, Preston. I'll be there... in just a second."

Just a second. Right. Like the last just a second, he thought with irritation. Nevertheless, he took his post back up by her door and waited for her to meet with him. This time, the doors swung open after just a few minutes had passed, revealing a slightly disheveled looking General... followed by...oh.. of course.. Hancock.

Preston felt a bit uneasy, not entirely certain now that the sound he had heard had been one of pain. He took in Macha's disheveled hair, her lips and cheeks flushed with blood, they fact she couldn't or wouldn't look him in the eye and Hancock's sanctimonious grin that stretched a mile wide of his marred face. They weren't... she couldn't.. how did they even? Ughhhhhh. Preston's stomach roiled at the thought but he kept his expression placid and neutral as always, not wanting to reveal his revulsion. Of course they were. What had he expected?

"I just got word of a prospective settlement up near the coast. A lighthouse called Kingsport up the northeastern part of the Commonwealth. Here, I'll mark it on your map." Using his glove finger, he pointed to the spot on her Pipboy's map where his troops had located the lighthouse. "It's occupied by the Children of the Atom. You'll need to clear them out and build a recruitment beacon before it will be safe enough for our people."

"Yeah. Sure. I'm on it." Macha rewarded him with a genuine smile, the first one he had seen in a long while at his approach. He didn't want to think about what had made her more agreeable this morning. "I'll make sure it's safe and we will have one more settlement backing the Minutemen."

"Great." He replied flatly.

"Children of the Atom," Hancock voice grated on Preston's normally patient nerves. "You'll want to keep your radaway handy with those guys around. Bunch of crazies that worship radiation."

"Maybe I should go with you, General." He offered, hoping if he could get her away from Hancock, maybe he could reason with her.

She quirked her head at him, a curious expression on her face. Preston felt uncomfortable and imagined she was examining him as she would her dog; as if he was just a silly creature who had done an amusing trick for her entertainment.

"Ummm. Thanks for the offer," She drawled. "But if the rads are an issue like Hancock says, I'd rather he watches my back. At least he will be immune. That's is, if you wouldn't mind backing me up?"

She turned to the ghoul expectantly.

"You kidding? As if anyone could stop me."

Damn. He would go with her, naturally. Preston nodded and began walking away. He had other matters to attend. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own choices. He had tried once already and she had refused to listen. It was best to just let it go, wasn't it?

"General," Preston hesitated, not sure if he should say something, but still compelled to do so. "Don't let him talk you into anything you'll regret later."

"What, you jealous?" Hancock shot back, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

"Hardly." His monotone voice betrayed no emotion. It did not carry the disappointment, worry, or fear that he felt as he gave them both a parting nod and turned his back on them. She wasn't who he had thought she initially was, he rationalized bitterly. Much of her appeal had been lost under a tidal wave of excessive drinking and chem use. He should have known this place would change her. It changed everyone. She couldn't see how different she was from when they first met. He missed the poised and refined woman that had exited the vault, but she apparently did not, and there was only so much you could do for someone that didn't want help.

* * *

Hancock stopped and looked up at the sun in confusion. Was he high? Well, of course he was high.. but how high was the question. Had they been walking in circles? Or were they just turned around? He had seen where Preston had indicated on the map and this was too far south. As a matter of fact, he was sure he had been this way before. Maybe he had passed out and woken up here once on one of his wild tears? There were quite a few blank spots in his memory, so he couldn't be one hundred percent sure. "Macha... I don't think this is the right way."

"I know." She threw over her shoulder, the dark tint of her shades glinting in the sun. "The lighthouse is a bit more north. We are making a detour first."

A detour? What the hell for? Well, at least he wasn't losin his damn mind. For now. "Care to let me know where?"

"Nope. It's a surprise."

Why did he have a bad feeling about this? "Should this concern me?"

"Maybe. You won't know until later."

They crossed an old crumbling road leading to a quaint peninsula. This really did seem familiar. He had been here before, he knew it. He was retracing his steps from the past. He scanned the area, both for threats and any landmarks to identify his whereabouts. The same broken skyline greeted him, not very distinguishable from the rest of the Commonwealth. Destroyed buildings, over turned cars, garbage and rotting fish. After a while most places started to look the same.

One edifice stood out. Sitting on a hill on the horizon, a dilapidated shell of a mansion loomed over the town like something out of an old horror holo. In a flash of memory, he recalled dragging the lifeless form of Macha from the waves and plunging a syringe full of psycho into her still heart. Croup manor. Ah yes... that was why this place seemed familiar. This is where.. where Macha had died.

Understandably, they had not been back since; those many months ago when they were still trying to figure each other out. When they had been just friends. What could make her want to come back here? To the place that could have been her grave? He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked away the haunting memory of her lifeless body floating face down in the water. It wasn't something he cared to recall; seeing her pale and blue lipped, her red hair plastered to her face in the rain. How differently things would have turned out if he hadn't brought her back. He would have wandered the wasteland, never knowing that his missing piece had slipped right through his fingers.

He pushed the thoughts away, choosing not to dwell on them, but they left a lingering ache in his heart. Quietly, he quickened his pace until he was besides her and took her hand in his, relishing the contact and reassurance she was still here with him. She was his as he was hers. Macha appeared startled at his touch yet gave his hand a gentle squeeze, rubbing her thumb across his in a playful manner that set his nerves alight.

"Yes?"

"Just thinking about how I'm going to cash in my sexual favor." He pursed his lips and looked to the sky as if pondering one of life's many mysteries. Yes, this was a much better topic to think on. "So many options. How do I choose?"

"That was hardly crying out." She countered, sore at "losing" at their morning escapade. She had stifled that moan as fast as she could, biting her lip so hard she almost broke the skin. It wasn't fair that his hands were so skilled and textured. She was fairly certain he cheated.. somehow. She just couldn't prove it.

"You made a noise when you were supposed to be silent. I won."

"I don't recall agreeing to your terms. You acted without my express verbal consent. In fact, you simply conferred implied consent upon the arrangement, which would not stand up in any court of law. Therefore any attempt to ad colligenda bona – or attempt to collect the goods- is null and void."

"A verbal response was unneeded. Your body consented well enough." The way his teeth kinda poked out from his victorious grin made him look adorable.

"Well, well. Someone's background skills in politics are showing, cause I sense bullshit." Macha contested, enjoying this banter. He caught on quick and their verbal sparring had almost become an odd version of foreplay for them. He certainly knew how to get her riled up, in more ways than one.

Sometimes, she forgot just how intelligent he could be. He was always hiding behind that stoner facade and making comments about not understanding her "big words" when she had seen him time and time again out smart and out maneuver their enemies. He may not be book smart like she was, but he was resourceful, quick witted, and street smart. _My_ _parents would have hated him_ , she thought, mildly amused.

She lost track of the conversation when the building she was looking for came into view. Missing most of the northern most wall, the remains of the Nahant's Sheriff's Department sat in a heap of rubble like the slowly decaying carcass of an animal. And apparently, it was occupied with parasites.

"Shit." Macha swore, pulling Hancock towards cover. "This conversation will have to go on pause. We've got company."

"Raiders." Hancock sneered. He equipped his combat shotgun and scanned the building. "Looks like they are dug in deep. And, shit, one of them has power armor. Gonna be a hell of a fight."

"Would you want it any other way?"

"Hell no."

She set her pack down and handed him some frag grenades and Molotov cocktails. "I'll sneak around and lay out some mines toward the main in entrance. Hit them hard with the grenades and try to drive them forward into the mines. Shoot them from cover, but get out of there if the swarm you. I'm going to focus on the raider in the power armor and make sure he's disabled."

"Look at you. Planning tactics like a real General." He pointed out with a hint of pride.

"Please. This is just a desperate attempt to kill them before they kill us. It's no grenade car combo to make a mini nuclear device."

"You liked that, huh? It was impressive, wasn't it? One of my best moments, aside from my performance last night.. and this morning." She could actually see his ego inflate as he relived that moment of badassery.

She rolled her eyes. "Try not to break your arm patting yourself on the back there. I may have use for it later."

"Now what kind of use might that be?" His words drawled and tone lowering to that seductive growl that sent secret shivers up her spine.

"Guess you'll just have to wait to find out. Look alive." A quick kiss later she had already disappeared into the shadows, her boots gliding silently over the ground as she circled the building.

* * *

Hancock casually stepped over the corpse of the raider leader that blocked his path. Poor bastard hadn't stood a chance. She had shot the fusion core screwed into the back of the suit, forcing the power armor to die mid stride. Screaming like a child throwing a tantrum, the raider had exited the suit and got two steps toward Hancock before she put a bullet in the back of his head. His fingers still twitched in death throes as his brain died and leaked gray matter all over the building's foundation.

Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the brick of the few intact walls, Hancock's coal colored eyes followed Macha as she dug through drawer after drawer of filing cabinets and desks, slamming them in frustration if they were empty. This had to be the fifth filing cabinet she had gone through. What was she looking for that warranted him having to hear that god awful squealing every time she pried a drawer open? She was making so much noise that with their luck, some wasteland creature was going to mistake all the screeching for a mating call and ambush them.

"No." She grumbled, closing another drawer and causing a cloud of dust to erupt into the atmosphere. "No, no, no. Come on! There has got to be one here somewhere."

"So, are we looking for something in particular or did you just want to take a handsome ghoul on a stroll?" He asked, keeping a look out. This building was too exposed for his liking. Too many missing walls and entry points to guard. It had been the raiders undoing and could easily be theirs if they were not careful.

"Looking for something." Came her clipped reply as she ascended the crumbling stairs. She stopped short and picked up a holo resting on the edge of a short filing cabinet and proceeded to mumble to herself. "Huh, Eddie Winter holotape number five. I think this is one of those records Nick was looking for."

Shrugging, she popped the holo into her Pipboy and went back to opening drawers, the gravely sound of the voice on tape not improved in the slightest when teamed up with protesting metal.

"You and I clearly need to talk. About Danvers, about the Montrano mess, about.." The Pipboy blared as she kept digging through drawers, only pausing to snicker when the voice called someone a fuckwit.

"Fuckwit. Haven't heard that one in a while." Macha commented absently. "I like that one. I'll have to remember to use it.'

"Better than Flugalnarg?" Hancock asked, referring to their memorable conversation about curse words.

She glanced over her shoulder and he could see the smile in her eyes as the corners crinkled up. "Infinitely... and it's about damn time. Finally!"

She reached into the top of a cabinet and withdrew a pair of tarnished handcuffs. They were slightly rusty but still in fair condition despite the tarnish. At least, they didn't look like they would immediately give anyone tetanus.

"I bet those have seen some fun in their day. Careful! You don't know where those have been." He teased as she turned the cuffs over in her hands and tested them to make sure they still opened and closed. A tiny silver key protruded from the lock, and Macha beamed with delight as turning it produced an audible click and the cuffs opened with a little coaxing.

She pouted as if he was spoiling her fun, fiddling with the cuffs as she opened and closed them. "I don't know where you've been and I still put my hands all over you."

"Like you could resist." He shot back in challenge, not unkindly.

Rolling her eyes for the hundredth time that day, Macha ignored the comment, not wanting to feed his ego any further. "Ok. Let's go."

"You are joking, right? All this," Hancock was incredulous as he looked around at the carnage. Dead bodies splayed across the ground, blood pooling in red puddles. They had taken out seven raiders, expended excessive amounts of ammo, used up grenades, mines, and stims and he had got shot- twice- for what? A few pieces of metal bound together by a thin silver chain? From the way she was tearing everything apart, he had thought they were looking for something important, not some random piece of junk for her to break down. "For a bit of scrap?

"Oh... these aren't for scrap." Macha voice was tinged with excitement. She sauntered towards him, just a bit more sway in her hips than normal. Grabbing the edge of his jacket, she pulled his head down till her lips grazed his ear. "These are for US!"

She kissed his ear lobe and left him standing there, mouth a gape in shock. Raising one brow, Hancock admired Macha's ass as she walked off, tucking the cuffs into her back pocket. He caught a glimpse of her nicely rounded ass cheeks before her trench coat fell back into place after the cuffs were secured. Us? Well... that was an unexpected and interesting turn of events. After a few moments of reconsidering the situation, even getting shot, he laughed and shook his head. Court got interesting sometimes, she had told him. Right...

"Worth it." He chuckled as he left the slaughter behind to engage in more interesting endeavors.


	17. Christening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Kingsport and Goodneighbor
> 
> Warning: Cursing, smut- a lot of smut, torture and some very adult situations
> 
> Listening to: Howl, Drumming Song, Bedroom Hymns -Florence & the Machine
> 
> Take Me on the Floor & Untouched– The Veronica's
> 
> I Get Off, Mz. Hyde, Beautiful with You, and Freak Like Me- Halestorm
> 
> Voodoo Doll- Heart
> 
> Throne- Bring me the Horizon

Macha snatched up the beeping mine and quickly disarmed it, stuffing it in her pack. Finger to her lips, she motioned Hancock forward and they crept around the overturned hull of a truck.

"We've got movement on the left and in the house." He whispered. "Maybe five or six at the most. What's the plan?"

"Well, since the use mainly gamma guns, I need you to take point. Get in close and lure as many out as you can. I'll set up shop over by that boulder," She nodded her head towards an outcropping of rock to the west, checking over her sniper rifle. "and pick them off from there."

"I'm bait?" Hancock raised his brow ridge in question. A tenuous frown turned one corner of his mouth down, tugging his ravaged skin tight. He stared at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Sexy bait." Macha offered in condolence. "Come on, it's not like their weapons can hurt you... and I'll be bait next time. I promise."

As she teased him, Macha noticed Hancock's expression change. His easy going smile slipped into a serious and grim countenance, his thin lips pressed together as he turned away from her in deep thought. What was that? Where was the smart ass comeback she had been expecting? She had only been joking. His body went stiff for a moment and she felt the shift in the air. Suddenly, for a brief moment, she felt like they were back on the Prydwen, at odds with one another. She hadn't meant to suggest he'd be bait… but he was the best candidate for a full frontal assault on the Children. The radiation expelled by their gamma guns would not harm him like they would her. It was simply the most practical option. She didn't enjoy putting him in danger and if she thought for one second they could wound him, she would have suggested something else. Had she offended him somehow?

"Or... not. We can come up with something else." She backpedaled, trying to undo whatever the hell she had just done. "We can try a different tactic. It was just an idea. I don't want you endangered and I wouldn't have suggested it if I thought you couldn't handle it. We could-"

He waived it off. "No," He said, flashing her a sardonic smile, cutting her rambling off. "You are right. Ain't nothin' I can't handle. What are they gonna do? Bleed on me?"

Macha's heart regained it's normal rhythm as his confidence soothed her nerves. Reassured by his acceptance of her plan, she dropped the subject. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Hey." She reached over and squeezed his knee, needing the contact. She hadn't realized how much he meant to her, not until that final wall had caved in and she bared her soul to him a few nights ago on the eve of her birthday. The words came out somewhat easier now, but still tinged with uncertainty and hesitation. "Be careful. Please. I wasn't kidding when I said… you ..know…. I… I love you."

His eyes softened and her took her hand in his and planted a tender kiss on one dirty knuckle. He absently rubbed the spot where her wedding ring had once rested. "I ain't planning on skippin out on you, if that's what you mean. You still owe me a favor and I plan on collecting."

Leave it to him to take her romantic gesture and jest about it. She experienced a surge of frustration. It had taken a lot of courage to confess her feelings to him and he had never once just come out and said he loved her back. True, he showed her lots of ways- like the party or the little things he did for her and calling her love- but was it so wrong of her to want to hear it? Those three little words that alluded her ears. He was always comparing what they had to the ecstasy that chems produced. Always skirting around it with joking half-serious comparisons about missing body parts and drug paraphernalia.

Now she felt slightly foolish and unsure if she should have said anything at all. Maybe that was what was wrong lately? What if that was the reason he hadn't slept much the last few nights or the strange reaction he had just had? What if he was questioning their relationship? Or wondering if he had made a mistake by giving her a chance? Now that she had been intimate with him, what if her inexperience showed? Or he realized this wasn't going to work out after all? It was unnerving how one little thing could cause all her fear and doubt to come flooding back in, now that she had lowered her defenses and let him into her heart completely. Instead of cementing their relationship, it had just created more questions and left her feeling vulnerable.

 _ _Or maybe you just said it a few nights ago and haven't given him enough time to say it back,__ the logical part of her mind chided her. As quickly as the doubts came, she pushed them away. No, she wasn't doing this to herself. She was happy for once -damn it -and she intended to stay that way. She wasn't going to fuck it up by questioning every little thing and picking it apart. So what if he hadn't said it? Did it really matter that much?

They both had gone into this relationship with the understanding they would face certain challenges. Whatever he was going through, she just had to trust that he would tell her when he was ready. She was just going to live in the moment with him. Nothing lasted forever after all, but just like the temporary high the chems and booze gave her, she would enjoy the trip as long as it lingered. It was the only way to live in the wasteland, where life was measured in moments, not in hours or even days, because you never knew what second may be your last.

With a muted sigh, she took her hand back. "I haven't forgotten. You won't let me. Try to focus on the fight and behave yourself." She reminded him, swallowing a handful of orange mentats.

"Ain't about to start now."

He watched as her pupils dilated, black holes that absorbed all light as she observed her surroundings with drug heightened senses. With a confirming nod, she moved out and took cover behind the rocky ledge she had indicated earlier. He gave her a few moments to set her sniper rifle up on its bipods and make ready. A quick thumbs up signaled her preparedness and he stood and started up the path towards the lighthouse with cool confident strides. The Children of the Atom had tried to convert the residents of Goodneighbor once and only once. It was time to see how they liked some preachy fuck showing up on their doorstop. Except his version of the gospel involved spewing bullets, not words, and he had several moving verses he was eager share with them.

* * *

Shit! Macha injected herself with another stimpak, willing the marks on her arm to heal faster. The wounds caused by her constant scratching started to close as the blood congealed and scabbed over. Within moments, the small lacerations disappeared leaving behind no trace of their existence. Brushing the flakes of dried blood off her arm, she examined it and was satisfied that the pink new flesh behind left no evidence of her self destructive habit.

While she had promised she would see a doctor, there was no time with all the work she had to do as General. Too many settlements to tend and protect. And she finally found the last piece of power armor she needed to complete her suit and head into the Glowing Sea to find Virgil. That bandit leader at the Nahant Sheriff's department had a leg piece that, once modded, would serve as a nice addition to the T-45 model she had found at the Museum of Freedom.

It would complete her set, giving her a full suit. She had no intention of going back to the Brotherhood to claim the one they had provided. Not with all the strings, politics, and xenophobia attached. She was giving them wide berth, especially since she was now in a relationship with Hancock. She wasn't sure even her patience would hold out if they continued to threaten and insult the man she loved. She couldn't afford to let personal grudges start a war between the Minutemen and Brotherhood. The Minutemen were not yet as powerful or well established as she would like and the technical superiority of the Brotherhood would make any battle between the factions incredibly one sided.

So, that left her the only choice of cobbling one together from pieces she found at merchants or scavenged from the wastelands. Now, she just needed lead; copious amounts of it, to form a protective coating against the radiation. She'd get a doctor later, she rationalized. Right now, it was best not to worry Hancock. And she was fine, he just worried too much. She was one step closer to finding Shaun, and once she did that, then she would go. She just needed to keep better control of her cravings. _Speaking of which_ , she thought as the gnawing sensation began in the back of her mind. Her last high had already departed, crashing and giving her a massive headache and a case of cottonmouth.

Extracting a pack of berry mentats from her backpack, she placed a few under her tongue, closing her eyes to savor the rush as they dissolved. Macha sighed in relief as the misery in her head subsided.

"Macha?" Hancock's voice called to her from around the house carried by the wind.

Sniffing, she went back to examining the body she was bent over, going through the layers of torn rags that draped over the Child of Atom's form like some type of ceremonial robe. "Yeah. I'm over here. Just looting the bodies."

"To the living go the spoils." He stated coming around the bend and kneeling next to her. "Anything good?"

"A nuka grenade and more of their strange guns, but other than the occasional radaway or stim, not much else. They seem to travel light. You?"

"More of the same. Here." He handed her some ammo and grenades. Checking out the layout of the grounds he stated, "Nice little place. Little glue, some duct tape, I think we could fix this right up. There is something you may want to check out though." He pointed towards the lighthouse itself.

The conical lighthouse top was lined with lattice windows that encircled the perimeter of the tower, surrounded by a still sturdy looking steel walkway and railing. Even in the light of midday, a florescent green glow emitted from behind the panes of glass, reminding Macha of the lightening from the rad storms that occasionally cropped up and turn all the world the one shade of green she did not miss. "You ain't gonna like it."

"I'm guessing that glow is not from a cache of glowing fungus they've built into a some weird idol?" Her eyes traveled up the length of the tower, the mentats allowing her to see the energy of someone on the top floor, running in erratic circles. The figure pulsed with power as the form tore at it's head and flailed it's arms in spastic motions, like pulling out its hair. Had they locked some poor trader up their until he went insane? Or exposed him to so much radiation they had fried his brain? Shit, was she going to have to go up there and put someone down out of mercy? He was right. She would not like that at all.

Standing, they started the trek up the spiral staircase that led to the lighthouse gallery room and catwalk. Their footfalls echoed loudly on the steel stairs, bouncing of the cracking mortar and making the climb seem longer than it was. Thighs burning when she finally stepped out on the catwalk, Macha stopped for a moment to catch her breath as the strong coastal wind swept her hair back and dried some of the sweat that beaded on her forehead. She dared to rest her weight on the rusty railing and gazed out at the vast seas of blue that stretched out endlessly before them. If she could ignore the capsized boats and timeworn hulls, it was almost beautiful.

"My pop used to take us fishing at places like this." Hancock placed a hand on the small of her back, joining her in leaning across the railing. He raised his voice slightly to be heard over the howling wind. "Never caught anything that didn't try and eat us first, but damn if it wasn't fun."

Macha raised an eyebrow at that comment and giggled a bit as she thought about a young and innocent John fishing on the beach. The imagery was a striking contrast to the violence loving ghoul that stood besides her. True, while he could be merciless to his enemies, but he had never been anything than a gentleman to her. It was still hard to image him young and carefree, maybe an old hat shading his eyes as he cast his line in the water with his father. She reached over and touched his had, heart warmed by the thought.

"What?"

"Just hard to imagine you as a child. All sweet and innocent. Or just being innocent at all. Underneath all that swagger, you are just a big softie, aren't you?" She teased, bumping him with her hip.

"Hardly," He snorted and pulled his hat down on his brow.

Was that a hint of embarrassment? It just made him seem more endearing in Macha's eyes as she poked fun at him. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. As far as I know, the day you were born you strangled a raider with your umbilical cord."

"Damn right I did." He smacked her on the ass. "And had my first celebratory shot of vodka right after. Come on. You gotta see this."

After ascending a few more stairs, Macha curtailed her movement at the door to the lantern room. "You gotta be kidding me. They were worshiping this thing? What the fuck was wrong with those people?"

The thin glass of the lattice windows was all that separated them from a glowing ghoul. Festering cysts of radiation covered its disfigured body to the point Macha couldn't tell the gender. A putrid green glow radiated from its body as it scrabbled back and forth behind the glass like a caged rat. A living light blub to power the lighthouse.

Macha jumped as it noticed them and slammed its body against the door, one of its finger nail breaking off and leaving a streak of green goo down the glass at it clawed for her face. The needle on her Geiger counter began to climb steadily just as her heart rate. Goddamn she fucking hated feral ghouls; especially the glowing ones.

"She's got a good looking face." He indicated the ghoul with the barrel of his shotgun. The ghoul responded by throwing itself against the glass again. One of the blisters on its shoulder burst, causing radioactive sludge to pour down its back. "Has this..glow about her. You looking to fix me up? Gonna introduce me and maybe help fulfill that threesome fantasy after all?"

"Oh, that's just wrong on so many different levels." Macha made a disturbed face and shuddered in revulsion, gagging just a little. "Stop now or you are never touching me again."

"Still think I'm a goddamn bleeding heart?" He tried to sound menacing, but couldn't keep his face straight. A half formed smile threatened to crack through.

 _Bastard_ , Macha thought."I tempted to make you bleed after the imagery you just put in my head, but no. I take it back. You are a hardass, badass, and smart ass. All the asses."

"And..."

"Oh.. my .. fucking.. god!" Macha crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. She said it one time... one damn time in passing, and now he wanted to hear it all the damn time. Served her right for saying at all. "Fine. And... a ..sex...god. There. You happy now? Want me to shout it to the entire Commonwealth?"

His chuckle was nearly lost to the wind. "Obviously, the Children of Atom didn't get the memo. They were worshiping the wrong ghoul. But don't you worry, love. There will be plenty of shouting out my prowess to the Commonwealth later... in our own private worshiping session."

He winked at her shy expression. "Ready?"

His comment flustered Macha so much, she almost dropped her gun as she unholstered it and leveled it at the glowing one's head. Readying herself, she nodded, loathing the fact that her skin was aflame with embarrassment that she couldn't hide.

Stepping forward, Hancock pressed the yellow and black stripped bar that sealed the door shut. The door slowly swung open, removing the barrier between them and the false god imprisoned in the lantern house.

* * *

Hancock wiped the sweat off his brow and licked his lips. Goddamn, it shouldn't be this hard to turn her on. He should know how to do this by now; even be a fucking expert. They had done this at least a dozen times already. He went over a mental checklist. Her body was primed and ready for action. He had dutifully pressed all the right buttons to induce maximum flow. What was it she had said the trick was? The right hand rule? Forefinger and thrust? Alternating?

"It's not excited enough." Macha pointed out, her comment adding to his frustration.

"I know that!" He grumbled. "I'm working on it. Not my fault this is so damn complex."

"I can just do it myself."

"No. Just have some patience. I got this."

"There's not enough force. Put it in the slot-"

"Macha! I'll figure it out... just gimme a sec."

Macha looked down at him, glowering. "You're doing it wrong. Let me help."

"Fine." Hancock sighed, relenting. Why the hell not? They would finish faster together.

She slid her hand over his and kissed him gently on the cheek, guiding his hand to the right spot.

"Like this." She took the copper ring from his hand and slipped in into the slot of the magnet, creating a shaded pole. "The lines of force from the magnetic field have to be cut in order to produce AC current. The copper ring delays the induction and causes the armature to spin. Otherwise, we'd have to open the generator up and start this by hand every time. Which would be a pain in the ass."

"This already is a pain in the ass. I'm not supposed to be operating heavy machinery."

"You didn't blow us up.. so for you, I consider that progress. You'll get it, don't worry." She adjusted the armature and held up her right hand in a vague L shape, her thumb, forefinger and center finger extended. "Remember, Fleming's right hand rule for generators. Forefinger is field. North to south. Thumb, thrust. Center finger for current, in this case, the armature. The armature has to move at right angles through the magnetic field to produce current."

"I got a finger for Fleming, all right."

Macha smacked him in the chest. "Alright. That should fix it. Let's turn it on and give it a go."

Closing the panel, they stood. Macha brushed her pants off as Hancock pressed the start button and the generator sputtered to life coughing a black cloud of exhaust into the air.

"Yes! High five!"

Hancock humored her with a high five, still somewhat sore over his inability to conquer the mechanics of the generator. She was so damn smart. What the hell was she doing with him? Should be smart enough to know better.

"What's left on the list?" He asked to distract himself from his failed attempts at electrical engineering.

Macha ticked off the tasks on her fingers. "Water purifier, turrets, the recruitment beacon and a few more beds."

Beds huh? Inspired, Hancock wrapped his arms around Macha's waist and pulled her close, holding her from behind. Well, at least he knew one area he excelled in. "Speaking of beds... how about we take a break for a bit and I show you how to produce some real electricity?"

Macha contemplated refusing his offer. She didn't feel particularly sexy at the moment. She was hot and sweaty and covered in grease. The morning had been spent burning bodies and removing one very glowing and squishy ghoul from the lighthouse. They had a lot of work to do still and night fall wasn't far off and other than the a few barricades, they hadn't put up any defenses yet. Also, as he had mention to her, it was very humid here on the coast and the smell of wet ghoul was indeed unpleasant. Coupled with the odor of brine and rotting fish, the picturesque ocean views lost some of their romance.

Still, Macha thought as he began to nibble his way down her neck. Maybe I don't need romance right now. Maybe I just need... Her gaze fell on exposed part of the upper floor. Either the bombs or time and the elements had destroyed a portion of the wall to the upstairs bedroom. Some of the roof had caved in and a stout support beam had fallen across the partition wall that led to the restroom. Right over the door jam. She turned to him with sudden enthusiasm.

"I have an idea!" She exclaimed, fishing the handcuffs from her back pocket and dangling them before him. "Since we took this building from a religious cult, how about we do a little christening of our own?"

Hancock leered. Damn, smart and sexy. All those years fishing, and he had finally landed himself the perfect catch. He picked her up in a fireman carry, delighting in her surprised squeal. Hand planted firmly on her ass, for both balance and to cop a feel, he proceeded to carry her into the house and up the stairs. "You want to start praying now? I take requests."

She giggled and smacked him on his ass as the lovers climbed the stairway to the closest thing to heaven they could obtain in a world many considered hell.

* * *

The black surface of Hancock's pupils reflected her wide and slightly nervous gray eyes as the handcuffs clicked into place, securing her arms overhead. The support beam was just wide enough to comfortably allow her hands to be cuffed around it without cutting off her circulation. She was a bit on her tip toes, but still able to stand. The breeze carried by the ocean was cool and gentle, prickling her exposed skin and nipples.

"Be right back." He purred, kissing each breast with reverence. "Don't go anywhere."

Placing the tiny silver key on the nightstand, Hancock rifled through his coat that had been draped over the back of a bed rail. She smirked to herself as she checked out his ass, enjoying the taunt and graceful muscles that comprised his ectomorphic figure. She had never really figured him as a briefs kinda of man, but had to admit they looked good on his hunched form as he bent to retrieve something from his coat. He picked the red frock up and retrieved a long needle from one pocket.

He caught her staring and shook his ass at her in a playful manner. "You like what you see?"

Macha snorted and rolled her eyes at him, but yes...yes she did like it. Tossing his coat on the nightstand, he raised the needle skyward and thumped it with his finger in a rhythmic motion to remove any air bubbles. Desire hit Macha hard as any bullet as she identified the vial of psychobuff, her body beginning to quake in anticipation.

"A little something to make the ride even more enjoyable." She shivered as John ran his palms over her exposed skin, the ribbed and course flesh causing her to break out in goosebumps as he administered kisses down the length of her naked body. Her picked up one foot and rested it on his bent knee, exposing her inner thigh. Rubbing his thumb over her thigh, he sought the large vein that ran down her leg, kneading the skin to locate it.

Macha hissed at the familiar pinch of the needle as the cool steel slid into her vein and the slow burn of the drug entered her system. She moaned and let her head fall back as the euphoria took over, a million hands sensually caressing her all at once.

"Take it all in." Hanock gently removed the needle and licked up the small droplet of blood that formed on the injection site, kissing her thigh. His voice held all the promise of what was to come, fucking her with words.

"Thought you weren't in yet." Macha quipped, her words slurring slightly. She was fascinated by her fingers. When had they gotten so long? She flexed them and laughed as time skipped, creating dragging effect as her digits wiggled in the intensified sun beams that leaked like liquid gold through the destroyed roof.

"Oh. You'll know when I am." He sighed as he injected himself with the remaining drug and cast the needle aside. "First things first though. I believe we mentioned something about praying? Feel free to sing my praises loudly, for I am a vain and egotistical god."

"No shit." She muttered as he knelt before her and swept one leg up over his shoulder, his tongue darting into her folds and over her hooded nub, eliciting an unidentifiable noise from Macha. She had to admit, his lack of nose did have some benefits. _Like easier access_ , she thought as he dove into her sex with abandon, savoring her taste. His tongue undulated over her, rocketing her with pleasure as he licked her sensitive nub until her body hummed with desire. She panted, her fingers wrapping around the cuff chain as his lips captured her clit, pulling on it softly. Macha squirmed as he did it once more, the sensation almost too much to bear. His hands cupped her ass as he pulled her body closer, unwilling to let her escape as he lavished her body with more attention. He felt her toes dig into his back as she drew closer to release.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned as he hit a particularly sweet spot. "Right there. Right there."

Hancock raised a brow in mild annoyance. So, she was going to try and instruct him here too? He didn't think so. This was his field of expertise. He didn't need any fancy degree or an extensive vocabulary to master this.

"What was Fleming's right hand rule again?" He inquired coming away from her and licking her juices from his lips. He rolled her pearl around with his thumb, apply just enough pressure to make her twitch. "Something about thumb for thrust?"

"Oh.. don't you fucking dare talk shop during this, John." Macha growled at him and bucked her hips, eager for him to continue.

"What? It'll help me remember." He crooned, his grin widening with nearly sadistic glee. She wasn't in control here and he felt the need to remind her of that, even if only to torment her. Matter of fact, he glanced at the cuffs that bound her, she wasn't in control of much anything at the moment. Just her body, which she was about to surrender to his whims.

"I'm fairly certain thrust was mentioned." He deftly slid one, then two fingers into her, revealing in her gasps. Any further attempt to control the situation was disrupted by the continued spiraling of his tongue as his fingers glided deep inside her velvety folds. He pressed on the delicate area just a few inches inside of her, coaxing new levels of bliss from her wanting body as his fingertips curled inside her. Unbidden noises came between her pants as John focused all his energy and talent in forcing her to completely surrender all control to him.

He shifted her weight on his shoulder as she began to shake, barely able to stand on one leg. John closed his eyes and savored the heady scent of her dripping pussy as he consumed her. He loved doing this to her; the sounds she made drove him crazy. High pitched whimpers interlaced with pants and deep groans as the proper part of her still tried to fight her passion.

Macha's eyes rolled back in her head as the combination of his hands and tongue brought her to completion. She was overwhelmed as her body spasmed as if struck by lightening and she cried out, squirting down Hancock's face, chest, and arm and dripping on the floor. Macha's mouth fell open in awe as her body continued to pulse with the aftershocks of one of the most powerful orgasms she had ever had. She would have fallen had her hands not been cuffed, her legs refusing to hold her weight.

"Goddamn, love." He coughed as he nearly drowned in her fluids. There were some drawbacks to not having a nose as well, this being one of them. His face and chest was shiny and slick with the results of all his efforts.

"I-I'm sorry." She stammered in mortification, her entire body turning red. That was new. She had never done that before. Shit. She hadn't meant to do that. Hell, she hadn't even known that she could.

"For what?" John asked, thoroughly perplexed. He greedily licked her cum off his fingers and face, enjoying her sweet and salty taste.

"That... doing.. that.. I've never... done t-that before." She could still hear the patter of her dripping on the wooden floor. She struggled against the cuffs, part of her wanting to get away and hide from what had just transpired.

John felt a surge of anger at her late husband. He had never made her come so hard she squirted? What kind of fucking man had he been to never make his wife squirt? No wonder she was wound so tight. "Nothing to apologize for, love. Just means I did a good job... and we have a lot of catching up to do."

He...liked it? It wasn't weird or disgusting? She didn't know why, but that simple acceptance of her made her heart swell with so much love she thought it would burst. She ceased struggling against her bonds and gazed at him with new found confidence. "You are amazing."

"Sex god, remember? What did you expect?"

"I suppose a bit of humility is out of the question?" She flatlined.

"Not my style." His hands massaged her body, letting her come down as he kissed her. The smell of her on his breath and lips sent a spike of longing through her as the same tongue that had tantalized her now entwined with her own. She sighed contentedly as he moved around her, trailing his fingers across her flushed breasts and back.

His erection pressed between her firm ass cheeks as his lips meandered down her neck and shoulder. Hoisting one of her legs up, she felt his head rub against her dewy slit, coating his member in her glistening juices. The sound he made when he slide inside her sent a rush of desire through her body as he filled her to the hilt.

"Shit, you feel incredible." He panted, his breath tickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck, making her shiver. Teeth grazed her skin as he plunged into her, the smacking sound of their bodies joining blotting out all the ambient noise of their surroundings. There was no factions or war here, only their bodies joining as they took pleasure in one another.

Macha whimpered as his fingers wandered to her aching clit, inciting her to flinch away. Her delicate nub was still tender and swollen from her last release, and even the faintest contact caused pleasure that bordered on pain. Her nerves were charged with excess energy, firing across her body and sending warning signals to her brain about stimulus overload.

"No. No. Too sensitive. Way too sensitive for that!" She writhed, trying to flee his roving hand.

The cuffs jingled as she strained against them, the clink of the metal a reminder of her lack of control. Driven on by the thought, Hancock ignored her pleas, growing even harder and more excited as her pushed her body past it's limits.

She felt the dark chuckle more than heard it as he lips caressed the vulnerable skin behind her ear. "You owe me." He growled. "And this is what I want."

It wasn't a request. He was exacting his price for losing the bet. Even as her head said no, her betraying body responded to his bidding. She whimpered as he tweaked her, her pussy sodden and smothering his cock within her velvet lips."I c-can't!"

"Yes, you can." The pads of his fingers sought her out; Dexterous fingers that expertly handled a blade or the commanded the hair trigger of a shotgun. Each ridge on his scarred skin causing just the right amount of friction as he toyed with her.

She bit her lip against the unbidden words that threatened to escape them, her supporting knee at risk of buckling as he vigorously bent her body to his will. Her fingers were numb, everything else in her body too on fire to focus on any one sensation. She was floating, flying; her mind leaving her body behind as her senses overwhelmed her. The musky smell of their combined sweat, the wet slick sounds he made as he entered her, his short nails digging into her thigh as he pumped his ribbed cock deep inside her. She .. wanted..

"More!" She demanded in a coarse voice. She wanted more. More of this. More of him. Only him.

Increasing his pace, he felt her silky walls convulse around him, squeezing him with delicious friction. She screamed, a primitive howl of pure satisfaction and lust driving him to his peak.

"Fuck!" His voice hitched in his throat as he surged forth inside her, every ounce of him spent in the white hot walls of her quivering sex. They were both reduced to breathless, perspiring messes, unable to speak and simply enjoying the intensity of their union. Hancock leaned his head on Macha' shoulder, pulling her close and nibbling on her ear.

"Told you, you could." He whispered, the curve of his victorious smile resting on her ear lobe.

"Yeah. Yeah. Shut up. No one like's a know it all." Her laugh was slothful as her body relaxed, the feeling slowly returning to her extremities. "Get me down before I lose circulation even more than I already have. All the blood in my body seems to have pooled elsewhere at the moment."

"Funny, I have that problem too. Especially around you." He commented dryly, heading towards the nightstand. She watched Hancock with hooded eyes as he slipped his underwear and pants on and went to the nightstand to retrieve the key. She was too busy staring at his ass to notice anything was off at first. His posture changed as he moved his coat aside. And then to the other side. And then folded it over. Her eyes narrowed. Oh, that better not mean what she thought it meant.

"Umm..." John fumbled with his coat, picking it up off the nightstand and shook it out.

"Ummm.. what, John?" Macha her voice hardening as she fidgeted in her bonds. She was suddenly feeling very exposed and uncomfortable.

"I..uh.. can't find the key." He scratched the back of his head in chagrin as he searched the surrounding area.

Macha leveled THE LOOK at John so hard it was as if the ceiling had caved in on him. "WHAT!?"

"It was right here." He got down on his hands and knees and peered under the stand. The wooden floor was warped with age and elements, many gaps separating the mahogany boards that had once been waxed and taken care of with pride. "It must have fallen through the floorboards when I tossed my jacket on the nightstand."

"Here," He handed her a bobby pin he had fished out from the pocket of her jeans. "Try to pick the lock while I continue to look. It may have ended up downstairs."

Try to pick the lock? Was he fucking kidding? Her hands were bound with little to no range of movement and the lock was upside down from this angle. She was good, but not that good.

"You better get me out of these right now, John Hancock, or I swear-" She was silenced as he put his hand over her mouth and nodded towards the opening in the far wall.

There, in the brush that lined the rocky path down to the beach, was movement. Hancock had seen it out of the corner of his eye; a head bobbing among the rocks, covered by a gas mask, eye lens flashing in the sun. A glimpse of brown leather and studded metal. Raiders. Well, fuck him sideways and call him Sally.

Hancock put his free hand to his lips in a silence gesture and removed his hand from Macha's mouth. "Keep still and quiet," he whispered, slipping his jacket on over his shoulders and grabbing his shotgun. "Raiders outside. I'll kill them before they get close."

"What!?" Macha hissed. "No. Don't leave me like this!"

Panic was starting to set in. She was helpless and unarmed and dangerous men were approaching. Men that had no problem murdering, torturing or raping women to get their jollies. She was a sitting duck. And be quiet?! He had just finished making her scream her lungs out in exaltation so that the entire damn Commonwealth had probably heard. Just like he had fucking wanted. It was probably what drew the raiders here! They had to already know a woman was around the area. She thrashed in her bindings, trying to work her hands out of the metal cuffs. "John! Please!"

He kissed her roughly but passionately, all his worry and fear for her safety crammed into those few brief seconds their lips met. His eye pierced through her as he struggled with leaving her, his hand tangled in her hair as he brought her face close.

"Macha...I... I..." He began, his voice fading out, his eyes darting madly back and forth. _Say it!_ Her pleading eyes screamed at him. _Say it in case we both die and I never get to hear it._ "I.. won't let them hurt you. I promise."

Determination plastered on his face like warpaint, Hancock turned and slipped down the stairs, tails of his coats flaring as he spun and disappeared from view.

"Shitttttt." Macha whispered to herself as she fought with the cuffs. She pulled with all her might, but even the chems Hancock had injected her with wasn't enough to break them. The overhead beam groaned and she heard some wood splinter, but she was still stuck. She yelped when the carbon steel bit into her wrists, purple bruises welling up over her pale skin. Not caring about the pain, she yanked all her weight down only succeeding in removing a good chunk of flesh from her forearm. Blood tricked down her arm, mimicking the tears of frustration she was barely containing.

A shot rang out, the blast echoing in her heart. Panting, Macha desperately scooted her body towards the opening in the wall. The cuffs made a horrible scratching racket along the beam as she stuck her around the door jam. At least five figures rush past in a blur of road leathers and steel. More shots came, followed by shouting.

She was able to pick out Hancock's voice among the calls and boom of guns. "Asshole! Awful brave, but real stupid!"

Someone cried out in distress and anguish following the reassuring sound of Hancock's custom shotgun firing. She had made that gun for him herself and knew it was reliable and dealt massive damage in close range. It would give him an edge in this fight but...

 _Four against one_ , Macha thought her mouth going dry as she renewed her struggle. Using the door jam, she braced her legs against the door frame and lifted her body towards the beam. With the little slack that motion granted her, she guided the bobby pin into the lock in a vain attempt to spring it. Twisting the booby pin, she grimaced as she met with resistance, the pin bending. She couldn't hear the tumblers over the din of battle and was just going on feel.

"Hey! Over here! Come here so I can gut you!" There was another cry of pain as the conflict moved towards the front of the house. Macha redoubled her efforts when she realized he was leading them away from her. Her legs were starting to give, muscle failure hazardously close as they began to tremble with the effort of holding her up. She thought she almost had it, then she heard Hancock's pained howl. The bobby pin snapped under stress as her hand jerked in an unconscious movement. Her legs gave out, dropping her heavily back down.

"The next.. one.. better kill me." He screamed in rage, his voice tainted with agony and moving further away, shotgun roaring. Another raider gave a death knell as the she struggled to peer out the two windows behind her. She couldn't see anything from her position and she probably just broke her wrist. Tears started to flow down her cheeks as she shivered in fury and frustration. No! She was not going to stand by and watch helplessly again as someone she loved was taken from her! She had to get loose!

A creak on the stairs brought her head up and the brief hope that it was John died as she took in the raider before her. Burly and filthy, he wore some kind of harness that bordered on kinky and a hood over his head. The way the eye holes were poked out made him appear like some demented scarecrow from a cheap haunted house. A simple pipe gun rested in his hands; one he had lowered once he spied her predicament. He tilted his head, eyes tracking up and down her body as she hung there helpless like a freshly caught fish.

She knew what this looked like. Her hair a tangled mess, body flushed red, wrists bleeding and the remnants of her and Hancock's exertions still running in rivulets down her thigh. He took a hesitant step towards her, hand reaching out to touch her.

 _He must have doubled back while Hancock led the others away, planning on looting the house. Either he's greedy and didn't want to share the spoils..or.. John..._ She pushed the horrible thought away and focused on the present. Licking her lips, Macha thought fast, praying she hadn't lost her touch at working a jury. Manipulation had been a daily part of her life and she knew one of her strongest skills. She donned her most simpering and pathetic tone, letting the tears she had been trying to hold back run freely. "Oh please. Please help me. You have no idea what he's done to me. Please don't hurt me!"

The raider hesitated, but still held onto his gun. She could almost hear the gears turning. He was alone with a naked, abused, woman chained to the ceiling; utterly helpless and already primed and ready for him. This must be like Christmas in July.

"Before the others come back," she cried, appealing to raiders' covetous nature. _That's right, your buddies may come back and then you'll have to share_. "Let me go.. and.. and I'll..I'll make it g-good for you. I-I promise!"

She could almost make out the sneer behind the hood as he put his gun on the nightstand and began undoing his pants. Macha felt bile rise in her throat as his foul member sprang free of his pants. Oh god. She could smell him from here. That deathclaw nest with all the shit and rotting carcasses in it had smelled more attractive.

"Bitch," his voice muffled by the bag, "You'll make it good for me or I'll cut your fucking tits off. Got it?"

Her eyes didn't need much prompting to widen in fright as he approached her, roughly grabbing her breast in one meaty hand. She cried out as he pinched her nipple brutally, his other hand spreading her legs.

Macha did her best to ignore the grouping raider and focused her gaze over his shoulder at the stairwell. She pitched her voice with terror, letting the anxiety she actually felt cause it to crack and tremble. "Oh GOD! He's back! Not again!"

"Fu-" The raider let her go and spun around, his body tense and ready for confrontation only to find an empty room. What he discovered seconds later was Macha's powerful legs wrapping around his neck in a strangle hold. Grunting with pain and effort, Macha locked her legs around the raiders neck and began to squeeze, trying to angle her knee under his chin. Her body was already shaking with fatigue, but adrenaline coursed through her veins, strengthening the effect of the chems as the raider clawed at her.

It wasn't like in the holos, where the hero simply twisted some random bad guy's head around like a top. Hancock had taught her to be effective and break the neck, you had to twist to the side and up, otherwise all you were liable to do is give your enemy a reason to go to a chiropractor and piss him off. Her wrist popped as the raider slammed her hip against the door frame. He slammed her the other direction, causing her to grunt as her hip bone sang in pain. His breath came wheezing pants as his splayed fingers tried to reach his weapon. Tightening her core muscles, Macha held him in place as she worked her knee in the correct position. He dug his nails into her calf, trying to pry her legs from his throat. The agony of her broken wrist was causing her to drift towards unconsciousness, dark blots forming at the edge of her vision.

"AGHHHHHH!" Macha screamed as the raider's teeth sunk into her leg. SHIT! FUCK! CUNT! WHOREMASTER! FUCKWIT! HE WAS BITING HER! THE ASSHOLE WAS BITING HER FUCKING LEG! Even through the hood, his broken teeth were drawing blood, red blossoming across the dirty hood like a Rorschach test. Fueled by rage and bloodlust, the threat of passing out long gone, she snarled as she thrust her battered hip up, swinging the raider's head up and to the right with such force she actually felt the bones break. He dropped to the ground with sickening thud, teeth losing hold of her calf.

Macha moaned at the jarring fall when the weight dropped, trying to catch the ground with her toes before she could swing around and do more damage to her mangled wrist. She hung there, a shuddering sob wracking her body. She was shaking uncontrollably from emotion and her adrenal system being on overload.

"Fucker!" She cursed at the raider corpse. "You better not be carrying mole rat disease or some other nasty shit." Maybe a trip to the doctor wasn't something she should put off after all?

"Macha!"

His voice caused her to break out in fresh tears of relief. Her vision blurred as his leather tricorn crested the stairwell as he ran up the stairs. He was the most beautiful, wondrous thing she had ever seen. Slightly doubled over, his hand clenched over a bloody wound in his side, Hancock ran the rest of the way up the stairs. He stopped short at the scene before him, a shocked expression overtaking the one of agony and panic. He lowered his shotgun amazed at the raider's broken form sprawled on the floor, Macha still bound though covered in blood.

He stared at her in admiration. "I knew you were a scrapper, but ...shit. I'm impressed."

She laughed at the absurdity of his compliment and immediately regretted it; her wrist screamed in reminder of its broken state. He kept looking at her like that...like he was seeing her all over again. For the first time, with some kind of new found respect... and longing. It was as if he couldn't get enough of her. They were alive! The relief was palatable.. as was the urge to feel his hands on her once again. That tangible declaration of their mutual attraction, both aroused from the thrill of danger and violence.

"You just gonna stand there?" A wicked smile turned her lips up as she gave him an open invitation to do exactly what they were both thinking of, injuries be damned.

Desire burned behind his smoldering gaze and he dropped his shotgun, clearing the room in a few long strides. Their kiss was fervent as Hancock undid his breeches, no longer caring about his wounds. His free hand coiled through her hair, mouth hungry and seeking.

"Wrist." She breathed in between labored pants.

Understanding, he hefted her up and she locked her legs around his waist. His hand left a bloody print on her ass cheek, smearing red across it as he held her aloft. Biting her neck hard enough to draw a gasp from Macha, he slid inside her and with three quick thrusts, filled her once again with a hoarse utterance. Macha sighed in repletion as his warmth flooded her, enjoying his pleasure; this connection only they had. This was life in the wastes. Blood and sex. Life and death. Love and anger. Pain and pleasure. Passion and coldness all in perfect juxtaposition.

Despite everything she had endured in the last few moments, Macha felt alive. It was like he said, now this, this was living. Here in his arms, she was free. Free to admit she enjoyed killing those that deserved it. That for once in her life she felt she could truly be herself and let go of all the constraints society and her job had levied on her. That a part of her had hated that old life and all it's facades. All the make up, clothing, and pretend smiles that hid a person's true nature. The roles she was forced into as a woman, wife, and mother simply because of what society had deemed appropriate. The things that no longer mattered at all here when it came down to survival.

He licked the bite mark on her neck and kissed her tenderly pulling back to meet her gaze. "You ok?"

"Just my wrist and leg... and possibly my pride. Nothing like being nude and hanging from the rafters for an icebreaker. Hi, I'm naked. And you are?"

"Delighted," he responded, not missing a beat. They shared a dark laugh before his face fell, guilt and wrath shadowing his features.

"He touch you?" Hancock asked, nodding to the dead body.

"Not for long." Macha growled, still pissed he had even lain a hand on her. Asshole. If she could resurrect him and break his neck all over again, she would.

"That's my girl." He swelled with pride. "I'll get some stims and we will get you fixed up. What do ya say we build the turrets first, the next time we decide to christen a new settlement?"

With a slight smirk tempered by the pain of her leg and wrist, she responded. "I think that would be an excellent idea."

"So," He drawled, peering up at the rafters. "Any idea how we get you down?"

* * *

Macha unbolted the feed from the water purifier and shook out the sediment that was fouling up her supply line. _Damn. Too sandy here_. She thought as she sloshed around to the other side of the purifier and pulled the filter out, holding it up to the sun. _Probably going to have to move the purifier deep_ _er_ _into the water. All this sand is gunking up my filter._ Not a task she was looking forward too, especially given the little present the ocean had deposited in her back yard. Sometime in the middle of the night a mutated dolphin had beached itself on the creamy sands near the pier. It's mouth gaped open, revealing rows of serrated teeth down it elongated beak. It looked primordial, like a nod to prehistoric times rather than the cute and friendly Flipper she has watched on TV as a kid.

 _Well if that wasn't fucking terrifying. Nope!_ _Never swimming in the ocean again,_ she thought as she washed the filter off and slid it back in place. _I'm going to need help moving this thing._

Brushing her gritty hands off on her pants, she waded back to the shore contemplating which of the recently arrived settlers were the most able bodied. Fetching a bag of radaway from her backpack, she bit the tab off and sucked the bitter orange substance down with a grimace.

"Eghhhh.. as Strong would say 'Looks like piss. Tastes like piss." She observed, stuffing the empty IV bag into her pocket. She could always use more plastic, though she supposed nothing would stop her from just throwing it on the ground. Not like littering could hurt the environment anymore than the war had.

As she came up the stairs that led to the house, a child scampered by, her face stained purple from the mutfruit she was diligently picking apart and devouring. A tattered plaid shirt had been fashioned into a makeshift dress for her. It was cinched together by a belt of twine. Barefoot and carrying a bucket in her free hand, she set it down on the concrete slab and began to fill it with water from the water pump. A pang of heartache brought a pensive smile to Macha's lips as she acknowledged the young girl was about Shaun's age. Maybe they could be playmates once she got him away from the Institute. It was a comforting thought; something normal among all the crazy of day to day life out here.

"Izzy." She called out to the girl. "Where's your daddy?"

Not wanting to remove the piece of fruit from her mouth, the girl simply pointed and then went back to concentrating on her task.

"Thank you, sweetie." Macha followed the direction the finger had indicated, rounding the house and heading towards one of the barricades she had built. Izzy's father was on guard duty today, being one of the few with the most combat experince. She passed several turrets that scanned her before returning to their patrolling pattern. After the raider slash handcuff adventure, she and John had been quick to set up a protective barrier of turrets before moving on to other projects.

Marcus was at his post at one of the barricades having an animated conversation with Hancock. A curious eyebrow was raised as she wondered what the ghoul and the settler could have in common enough to warrant a chat. Though charismatic, Hancock normally kept to himself unless something piqued his interests or ticked him off enough to draw his attention. Macha hung back, not wanting to interrupt as the wind carried their words to her ears.

"Hey, brother. Why work hard when you can work smart? Ya feel me?" Hancock reached into his coat and took out a brown bottle she instantly recognized. Buffants. "Feel your energy flagging and just one hit has you back on track. Two a day keeps reality at bay."

Was he..dealing to her settlers? Macha frowned and continued to watched the exchange, hands on her hips and her foot tapping the earth in ire.

Marcus looked skeptical, rubbing the sweat off his bald head with a kerchief. "I dunno. How much?"

"Normal cost is seventy five caps... but I like you. I'll give it to you for sixty five. Now, this is the good shit. I'm talking prime. Not cut with Abraxo like some products."

"I'm not sure..." Marcus hesitated. "That's still a lot of caps."

"Hey, I'm trying to help you out here brother." Hancock crooned, all charm and slick smiles. "I know you have a little one to watch over. Just thought this may give you the edge you need. We all know the wastes can be dangerous. And nothin' wrong with a little pick me up now and again to keep you on your toes."

That seemed to win Marcus over. From what Macha had gathered in her brief conversations with him, he loved his daughter more than anything in the world. Marcus had lost his wife to a super mutant raid a few years ago and been trying to keep them alive every since. He had been so grateful to hear about Kingsport and have a relatively safe place to raise his daughter. She was all he had left; all that mattered.

The deal was sealed with a quick exchange of caps and Macha watched in mute horror as the man she had assigned to watch over her people swallowed one of the pills. Marcus shook his head as the pill traveled down his throat and gripped the barrier with both hands as if to steady himself. A manic smile pervaded his features and the man took up his gun and began patrolling with renewed vigor.

Anger slithered into Macha's heart, a black snake coiling around it and squeezing, pumping venom into her veins. He was selling chems to HER people and he was doing it with chems SHE had made! How fucking dare he! How long had this been going on? Marcus had a kid to take care of, for fuck's sake! And he was on guard duty! She didn't want that shit in her settlement!

Storming over to Hancock, she grabbed his arm and started to drag him away. "We need to talk. NOW!"

"Sure." He blinked in surprise at her tone, but let her pull him down the stairs to the beach. "Somethin' weighing on you?"

"What the fuck are you doing?!" She spat, once they were out of ear shot from the rest of the settlers. "Selling chems to MY people?"

Was that what this was about? "Sorry, love. I suppose I should have asked, but I didn't think you would mind. I meant no disrespect. I wasn't holding out on ya, if that's what you think. I was planning on sharing the profits with ya."

Macha's mouth gaped open. He thought this was about caps? "This isn't about money! I couldn't care less about caps! It's about doing right by my people. That man has a daughter! He's on guard duty for god sakes! How is he supposed to keep watch if he's blitzed outta his mind? He has people relying on him to keep them safe!"

Hancock crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. He wished she would stop this high and mighty shit and just get over it already. "That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

Macha turned red with shame. Her usage never effected anyone but her. And she was definitely going to stop when she got Shaun back. She was just waiting for the right time to quit. "That's different. I don't let what we do interfere with my work with the Minutemen. And I make sure it doesn't endanger anyone else. What I do only effects me."

"Look, if you don't want me dealin' just say so." Hancock sighed in exasperation. "But you are living in the past. This shit ain't illegal. And folks will get a hold of it one way or another if they really want to. Life out here is hard, Macha. You know that better than anyone. Don't judge folks for wanting a bit of escape from that harshness."

"But I.. I fought so hard to keep chems like that off the streets. They hurt so many people. Not just them, but their families. Do you have any idea what it's like to watch the mother of a fourteen year old go up on the stand and describe how she found her son dead in a pile of his own vomit? Or talk to a father that held his son's hand in ICU as his heart stopped. Or the child that was abandoned to the state because both parents had overdosed and left him alone because they cared more about their next high than him. I used to.." _I used to put people like you in jail_ , she thought with apprehension, turning her face away from him.

Guilt threatened to overwhelm her, destroying all the good she had tried to do for her people. How the hell had she found herself here? "I didn't make those chems to sell. They were supposed to be for our use only. Using is completely different from selling."

He could see her wavering; struggling with this. He pushed a little further. She had to get out of the past and understand this was acceptable. There was nothing wrong with enjoying life, chems, sex, even killing if all done proper. "Macha, you can't make those kinda calls for people. That's what Goodneighbor's all about. Living free. It ain't like I'm dealin' to kids. That's just low."

"This isn't Goodneighbor!" She snapped. "These are MY people. Not yours!"

The comment stung. He was Goodneighbor. The town was a part of him just like she was. Couldn't she see that? And her people? What the hell was that supposed to mean? He had thought they were in this together. Working together to help the people of the Commonwealth, regardless of politics or factions. What the hell was this YOUR people shit?

"I thought we were a team." His voice was sad and quiet, when he should have been angry. So, here it was. The ugly truth. She loved him, but couldn't accept him for what he was. Not all the way like he truly wanted. Not fully. He knew then she would never put herself or her people on the line to help out Goodneighbor. A town full of junkies, alcoholics, freaks and outcasts. They weren't HER people and she considered herself above them. He was alone in his struggle to come up with a solution to the recent problems that plagued his town.

He had wanted so desperately to confide in her all these sleepless nights. Had fought with himself all this time simply not wanting to add more to her already overflowing cup. Yet, he had still hoped, that if he did tell her, she would be there for him. Offer his people help or use her pull with the Minutemen to work with him and find a solution. Now, he knew she would never entangle herself or the Minutemen in the politics of Goodneighbor, even to help him. She was a true leader like that. Thinking of her people's needs before her own. Putting them above her personal affairs, even when it came to her lover. Not like him; he, who was letting something personal get in the way of what had to be done.

"We are." She stammered, running her hands through her hair in distress. A few strands came free of her pony tail, falling about her face. "it's just..."

He rested his hands on both her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. He hadn't meant to upset her, but he needed this and he couldn't explain to her why. Not knowing what he did now. He closed his eyes, hating himself for what he was about to do. When he opened them again, he bestowed her with a radiant and charming smile. "Come on, love. Let them make their own choices. At least you know with the product you make it's clean and not cut with poison like some chems you find from other dealers. And if we just happen to pull in a few extra caps from it, so be it. We could use the caps for extra supplies, ammo, even put it back into the settlement if you want. I'll keep it small and to select clientele only. You trust me, right?"

She stared at him as he was asking her permission to do something she had been against all her life. He was making the puppy dog eyes at her. The one's she couldn't resist. He was right, wasn't he? It wasn't illegal. Not any more. She was living in the past and being foolish for thinking she could control people or that just limiting chems this way would prevent them from finding their way into her settlements. They always did and people were going to do whatever the fuck they wanted, no matter the consequences. She nodded, her hand twitching to scratch her arm, but aware of his hands on her shoulders. "Yeah. Ok. Just... keep it small scale and on the downlow."

"Sure." He gently rubbed her arms and Macha had to fight the urge pull away from his touch. Sure, what was one more piece of who she used to be chipped away? One more crack in the foundation of her personality and morals. They were here to help, right? However that may be. If that was the case though, why...why did this feel so wrong?

"You can keep the caps," She stated flatly. She didn't want his drug money. She already felt dirty. She tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear and backed away from him. "I've got work to do."

"Need some help?"

"No. I got it. Thanks." She turned her back to him. "Just... go do what you need to do."

He watched her stuff her hands in her pockets and walk away. Hew fought the urge to go to her. To tell her never mind and fuck it and make her smile.. but.. he needed the caps... and she would get over it. Wouldn't she?

Of the people, for the people. Hancock drew strength from his town's motto, letting it harden his resolve. No. He was alone in this. It was time he stopped letting his feelings fuck things up for his people. They needed him. He needed to get back to Goodneighbor, soon, and fucking deal with this once and for all. Lighting a cigarette, he made his way back up the stairs stopping before a middle aged woman planting some carrots.

"Hello there," He blew the smoke from the side of his mouth as the woman blinked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. "You look like you could use a bit of a pick me up."

* * *

"Huh?!" Hancock woke from his doze with a start. He ran his hand over his face and blinked rapidly trying to clear his head of the drug and alcohol induced dreams that still lingered in his mind's eye. Something had awoken him from his nap; something loud and unidentifiable. What the hell was that sound? He stuck his finger in his ear and scratched methodically. Was he hearing things or was that the chems? No, it was still there.. so not part of a trip. It sounded like it was raining ball bearings onto sheet metal.

He stood and almost immediately lost his balance as the half sunken boat shifted. He staggered as his foot splashed in the warm waters, soaking his boots. Scratching the back of his neck, he peered around to find himself in the cabin of the old boat that was docked by the lighthouse pier. Huh. He wasn't really sure how he got here.. or why he was in the boat for that matter, but wasn't the first time he had woken up somewhere unusual. Wouldn't be the last either.

He kicked a dangling piece of seaweed from his leg and began the laborious climb onto the pier and up the stairs, following the noise. He found Macha dumping the contents of her bag into the workbench. The noise was all the junk she liked to haul around tumbling into the drawers.

"If you were trying to wake the dead, congratulations, you were successful."

"I need the room," she said by way of explanation, not looking up. "And less weight to cart around."

"Get tired of crippling yourself lugging around all the junk of the Commonwealth?" He kissed her neck disappointed she didn't sigh or relax into his arms like she normally would have. It would appear she was still pissed at him. He sighed. Christ, this woman could carry a grudge like no other. Must be from hauling all that shit around. Strong back.

"No, I need a large amount of lead to coat my power armor for the journey into the Glowing Sea." She continued to empty the contents of her backpack into the workbench. Hancock watched with amusement as she stuffed a typewriter, a handful of duct tape rolls, and an absurd amount of clipboards into the metal drawer. "I was going to stop the General Atomics Galleria. There was a gym there and I'm pretty sure I saw some dumbbells lying around. That should work. Then I've got to get my armor from Diamond City and modify the leg piece I just found to fit."

"So you want to meet up at outside the gates of Diamond City?" He had told her this morning he needed to go back to Goodneighbor to check up on things. She hadn't seemed that disappointed in his plans to leave. It was just as well. He'd give her some space, let her miss him a bit, and when they met up again things would be smoothed over.

Macha shook her head, the cluster of pens in her fist rattling as she dropped them into the metal workbench. Another dive into her bag brought out a tin of berry mentats. Her hand moved to place them in the drawer and then hesitated, returning to the bag after reconsidering. The gesture did not escape Hancock's keen eyes.

"No. The only way to get the lead to bond with the metal is electroplating. It stinks and some of the chemicals used are toxic. And I'm going to need to smelt the iron down anyways. That requires a lot of heat. I doubt the guards in Diamond City would let me do that in a crowded area like the city. I'll have to do it at one of my settlements. I'm thinking Hangman's Alley. Meet me at there in.. oh.. say.. three weeks?"

"Sounds good."

"You sure.. you want to go with me? To the Glowing Sea? With all the rads, aren't you worried about… you know.. going feral?" She finally turned and looked at him, concern apparent despite her anger.

Hancock snorted. "Who says I'm not already there?"

"Sometimes I do wonder." She cupped his face with the palm of her hand, some of her iciness melting. "Thank you. For doing this with me. You've always been there for me. I can't begin to tell you what that means to me."

The words should have brought him joy or even comfort, but they just reminded him how she couldn't be there for him the way he always tried to be for her. It left him feeling dejected and bitter. He pushed the emotions away, not wanting to spoil their farewells with pettiness.

"You be careful." His mouth grazed hers, tilting her head up and basking in softness of her satiny lips. There was the sigh he was looking for. She embraced him, holding him tight as the wind swept his coat around them. He opened his mouth, wanting -needing- to say more, but snapped it closed before any utterance could slip out.

"You too. Tell Kent I said 'hi' and that I haven't forgotten about his request."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll tell him"

"Love you. See ya later, ghoulfriend." Macha kissed him one last time and shouldering her nearly empty pack walked through the gates.

* * *

The green lightening of another rad storm crackled in the atmosphere as Hancock pushed open the door to Goodneighbor. It was late, and the streets were already deserted because of curfew, only the flickering of a faulty street lamp greeted him. An old water carton tumbled by, blown by the rising winds brought on by the coming storm. The lonely lights of Kleo and Daisy's shop sputtered in the dark, the shop fronts closed and barred. With a flitting feeling of annoyance, Hancock realized that their dues would be short this month, business being as slow as it was. One less source of income for him to draw on.

 _W_ _ell, fortunately I am a hell of a spokesman and salesman._ He thought. Macha's chems were selling well, their potency greater than standard chems. And also their addictive properties. Word had spread fast at Kingsport that he was the man to go to for a fix. He had sold some to the settlers at Country Crossing and Finch Farm. The rest had sold to an eager caravaner in Bunker Hill who recognized the chems' potential. Macha's drugs were the new thrill, the new escape that people didn't even know they wanted until they had tried it. He had come away with over a three thousand caps and one caravaner agreeing to return trade to Goodneighbor as long as Hancock sold the chems exclusively to him. Not bad for a few days work. Of course, Macha didn't know that part of deal, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"Welcome back, Mayor Hancock." One of the Watch greeted him at the door of the Old State house, easing the hold on his Tommy gun as he recognized his superior.

"Hey James. How's it hanging?" Hancock said in passing, opening the door to the State House and entering his hazy den. Fahrenheit hardly looked up from her chess game as he strolled into his house. The King had returned.

"About fucking time you got back." She picked up a white bishop and overtook the black rook, then stood and sat on the opposite side of the board, playing against herself. "You actually going to stay this time? Or just dropping by before you ditch us again?"

"Good to see you too." He replied, flopping on his couch next to her. With his thumb, he flipped open a tin of mentats and withdrew two, cracking them between his molars. He leaned forward and pointed at the white queen. "Who's winning? I hear your opponent's a real bitch."

"Yeah, she is." His bodyguard snarled, moving another piece and flinging a pawn across the table.

Huh. She was going to be like that. What was it with broads lately? They all seemed pissed at him. Maybe he really was losin his charm? He dismissed the thought. Nah. He was too fucking irresistible. "Here for a few weeks, then heading out again."

Fahrenheit shook her head in disbelief, her orange hair falling in her eyes. She stood in rage, knocking her chessboard over and sending the pieces scattering on the floor. "Of course you fucking are. Do you even care what the hell's been happening here anymore? Or are you just fucking playing at being Mayor-"

"I was making some deals." The fat purse of caps he threw on the table interrupted her rant. One cap rolled across the board and stopped at it hit a turned over knight. "Been collecting for a relief fund. Setting some ground work to bring in extra caps to buy food and supplies for the ones suffering the most. I got one more caravan to agree to come back. Should help lower the prices and make things a bit more manageable for folks here."

She sat down and gaped at him in disbelief, her ire fading. He had come through. It wouldn't solve all their problems, but at least it was something he could take to the people. Something to show he still cared and held their best interests at heart. Something to win them back. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"Supply and demand." He said with a mysterious smile. "Use the caps there to give a small stipend to those that need it the most. The ones with kids and several mouths to feed. The trader will be here next week. Should get them through it till then. I'll make an announcement to-"

Glass flew around them a the window facing the couch exploded. The Molotov cocktail flew end over end, the bottle cartwheeling through the air like a junkie on too much psycho. Fahrenheit threw herself on top of Hancock, shielding him with her body as the bottle broke apart on the opposite wall, flames erupting and spreading across the den in alarming speed.

"Down with the tyrant! Fuck Hancock!" Several cries rose with the flames, crying out in fury. Another Molotov shattered against the wall of the State house, the flames licking the time worn bricks. Shots rang out in the dead of the night as the Watch opened fire and created a defensive perimeter around the entrance of the building. Return fire could be heard and an explosion rocked the building, causing dust to rain down on them. The hues from the rad lightening that arced through the sky and the fire mixed with the smoke and dust, turning the insides of room into a chromatic and disorienting disco ball.

"Boss!" Two Watchmen busted through the den's doors. "Youse ok? Wes got a mob out front. You need to get outta here!"

"Get that fucking fire out!" Fahrenheit barked at them, the smoke making her cough and wretch. One Watchman began to dose the flames with a fire extinguisher he had retrieved, white chemicals billowing through the air like makeshift clouds. She pulled Hancock to his feet and ushered him out of the room towards the stairs. "Get upstairs now! I'll take care of this!"

"I ain't turtling up!" Hancock pushed her off him, equipping his shotgun. "They want a piece of me, I'll fucking give it to them!"

"I'll handle this." Fahrenheit screamed at him. "Let me fucking do my job and get the fuck outta here so I don't have to watch your ass."

"Over here" Watchman James called out, beckoning to Hancock. "I got him, Boss. Upstairs! I got you covered."

"Go!" Fahrenheit hollered as more bullets smashed into the bricks. "Frank!" She ordered her man, "Eyes on that fucking door. Anyone comes through, tear them down!"

Cursing, Hancock followed James up the winding spiral staircase, their footfalls lost among Fahrenheit's shouts. He fucking hated running, but the staircase was the only way upstairs and offered a viable choke point if they were overrun. They entered a sparsely furnished room, only a few bedrolls lined on the floor that the occasional drifter used as place of respite.

"What's going on!" A drifter cried in terror, running to the Mayor.

His lungs on fire from the smoke and chemicals, Hancock hacked into a balled fist, his voice hoarser than normal. "We are under attack. Get to the back rooms! Now!"

Panic widened eyes met his as the drifter followed them deeper into the State house's backrooms. The windows up here had been boarded up long ago, blocking all sources of natural light and the outside street lamps. It was mainly used for storage now and crammed full of odds and ends. Only a few candles lit their way and they stumbled over some boxes and random furniture in the room straining to see a few feet in front of them.

"Can't see a fucking thing. There's a generator around here somewhere," Hancock said, turning his back to them to search through the piled boxes, crates, and unused furniture.

"Let me help." The drifter said helping Hancock move boxes. After moving one milk crate she knelt and exclaimed, "Found a cord. "

She stood stepping in front of Hancock and proudly brandishing the black power cord in the palm of her hand. Great. Now, all they had to do is follow it and.. The bullets from James's Tommy gun tore through her spine and before Hancock's gaze, a red flower bloomed on the drifter's tattered shirt. She fell forward, narrowly missing Hancock, vacant eyes staring across the floor as the cord fell from her hand.

Hancock reacted without thought, shotgun braced on his shoulder, seeking out his assailant as he took cover behind an old bookcase. He stared down the barrel, his once trusted Watchman in his sights. That motherfucker. He'd better kill him because he was going to be sorry if Hancock got his hands on him.

"Put your shotgun down, Mayor." The barrel of the weapon was waived threateningly in Hancock's direction. James's face was shrouded in shadows, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Over my dead body." Hancock snarled, anger leaking out in every syllable like radiation. A slow and painful death just waiting to claim the Watchman.

"That's kinda the idea. The Triggermen send their regards." James grinned, leveling his Tommy gun at Hancock's and fired a few shots, chipping chucks of wood off the bookcase.

"Do they now?" Hancock growled, cocking his shot gun. "How much did they pay you to take me out?"

"What's it matter?" James's finger twitched on the trigger, waiting for Hancock to re-emerge.

"Just wanted to know how much they thought your life was worth." James finger fell away from the trigger as Hancock left cover and strafed across the room, firing his shotgun before James could even react. The spread caught the Watchman in the chest and arm, peppering his body with pellets and knocking him off his feet. The Tommy gun went soaring and his head smacked solidly on the floor. Blood began to spread among the pin stripes of his suit from dozens of tiny holes.

The Watchman wheezed on ground, eyes wide in astonishment as Hancock approached with swagger in his step. The dirt encrusted black boots stopped inches from his head, so close James could see the scratches in the leather.

"You like that?" Hancock asked, placing the barrel squarely between James's eyes. James temporarily went cross eyed from staring at the gaping hole of the barrel, his wheezing breath increasing in his terror. "Someone made it special for me." He patted the side of the weapon with affection. "Her name is Justice. Seems fitting. Has a hell of a kick, doesn't she?"

"Just... kill... me."

"Oh no, my friend. You don't get off that easily."

The last thing James saw was the butt of the combat shotgun descending towards his head.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of the Statehouse, Hancock paced in front of the holding cell. The musty smell of rotting wood and lingering smoke from the fire was still burning his throat and he wanted this done. He wasn't in the fucking mood. The betraying Watchman was bound naked to a chair, his head hanging to the side as blood oozed from his busted lip. The one stim Hancock had injected him with had kept him from dying, but he didn't want to waste any more on this piece of shit.

He looked up from his pacing as his bodyguard joined him, awaiting her report.

Fahrenheit shook her head. "We injured a few, but no casualties. Seems they were more a diversion than anything more. Probably to give that asshole a chance to off you. I've got my men canvasing the area, but I doubt we will find them. This was too well planned. They just hit us and disappeared into the chaos. It must have taken them months to plan this."

"You hear that, James? Your so called friends have left you to rot." Hancock hung his hands through the rungs of the cell, waiting for the man to respond. James stared at the floor, not offering anything.

"Now, see, what I'm wondering is how they put you up to this?" Hancock said, taking a long drag off his cigarette. "You never were the ambitious type. It's what I liked about you."

Fahrenheit finished searching through James's blood soaked jacket and produced a purse full of caps. She threw it at James's feet. They spilled out and clattered to the floor, a measly two hundred or so caps.

"Worth it?" she asked in disgust. This was going to cause dissension in the ranks of the Watch. Now they would all wonder how many others had sold out. Or start thinking that maybe switching sides wasn't a bad idea. It was a good thing Hancock had brought in more caps, she was going to have to make sure that either fear or generosity kept them in line.

"Wasn't about the money." James spat blood on the floor, sucking on his lip."You're fucking weak, Hancock. The Triggerman know that ousting you is the only way to make Goodneighbor strong again and to protect us from the Institute. My sister's kid was murdered by some drifter cause they thought she was a fucking synth. They bashed her head in with a tire iron and you fuckin did nothing! Instead, you took off and left us to the Institute's mercy. They say you planned this all along. Just setting us up for easy picking. Yeah, I sold you out. Just like you did to us. And I'd fuckin do it again. You're no fuckin Mayor." Jame's left eye twitched involuntarily as the man squared his shoulders in an attempt to appear brave.

Hancock ran his hand over his face. Shit. He knew things were bad, but not that bad. A glance at Fahrenheit produced a confirming nod. One of the murders she had told him about on his last return. Not that murder was uncommon in Goodneighbor, but lately there seemed more than usual. Pity.

He knelt down in front of James and blew a smoke ring, tipping his hat back to peer into James's bloodshot eyes. "I'm real sorry to hear that. Wasn't my doin. I'm trying to stop the Institute so shit like that doesn't happen. Now, you know I can't let you go. You double crossed me and as a member of the Watch, that just sets a bad example. So instead, I'll make you a deal cause you were one of mine and that means somethin. You talk, and I'll make it fast and easy. You don't talk.. and well.. we are going to have more of a problem then we already do."

"I don't know nothin." James hissed, his bottom lip trembling. "They didn't let me see their faces."

"Sure you do. Where you met. Who you met with. Little details. Even if you didn't see their faces you can tell me what they were wearing. What their voice sounded like."

James vehemently shook his head, his nerves starting to fail. His eyes darted around the room, perhaps seeking mercy or escape and finding none.

"I can't," He stammered, fearful sobs coming out in tiny hiccups as the reality of the situation sat in. "I can't tell you anything. They'll k-kill my sister.. or worse."

Hancock leaned in towards the man, placing a rough hand on his shoulder almost in a fatherly way. "Awwww, now you've gone and hurt my feelings, James. It's not them you should be afraid of." His smile turned cold and sadistic, the light from his lit cigarette gleaming off his black pupils making him look demonic. "It's me."

* * *

The water ran red has Hancock washed the blood off his hands, droplets of pink hued liquid beading on the edge of the white porcelain sink where they fell. A dirty dish cloth continued to drip down the drain from where he had mopped James's blood from his body.

"Goddammit." He mumbled, noticing the cuff of his sleeve was stained. The delicate time-yellowed lace was splattered with flecks of blood though he hand removed his shirt and jacket to interrogate James. Damn. He must have hit him harder than he thought for it to fly all the way across the room. He took the bar of soap and tried to scrub the spots away, but only succeeded in turning the lace pink.

Sighing, he gave up on his dry cleaning attempts and made a mental note to turn his shirt into Clair at the Hotel Rexford. She was just as brutal to stains as she was to people, though only the latter was a free service. _Need to get it patched up anyways,_ he thought, examining the frayed stitching along his left shoulder. He smiled fondly at the memory of how that had occurred. The night Macha had practically ripped his coat off to... He pushed the memory away. He didn't want to think about that now. He needed a clear head for what he was about to do.

Shaking his hands dry, he turned to Fahrenheit, who was leaning against the wall, eyes averted as he cleaned up. Damn, he wished Macha hadn't hired MacCready and left him to guard one of her encampments. He could have hired the merc and had the Triggerman taken care of by now. "Tell Whitechapel we have a rat problem in the warehouse sector of Goodneighbor and I need a clean up crew to discreetly take care of it. Keep it anonymous. Out of town prospects and unknowns only. I don't want anyone linking it back to me. They'll gather less supporters if they just quietly disappear. I don't want a repeat of tonight from actual locals."

She nodded, cracking her knuckles. Finally, he was taking action and listening to her. It was good to have her old boss back. "Speaking of disappearing, what do you want to do about James? The usual?"

Burbling sobs could faintly be heard from the cell down the hall. Hancock had give the guy some credit. He had lasted longer than he though he would. Half the man's teeth were littering the grimy cell floor along with a finger or two.

"Yeah. Make sure there's nothing left even for the radroaches. And station a Watchman at his sister's house, just in case. Send the rest of his wages this month to her to help pay for whatever she needs." He called down to her as he climbed the spiral staircase of the State House and left the building.

"Boss." The Neighborhood watch guard acknowledged him. "Needs an escort?" Evidence of the recent events still marred the street. Spend casings and fire blackened bricks. Fahrenheit had called in all Watch and her men patrolled the streets with fierce determination.

"Nah. Just talking a walk across the street, brother. You keep up the good work though." He tossed the man some Jet and continued on his way. The lights of the Memory Den overpowered the darkness of the night, bathing him in crimson twice in the same evening. Letting himself in, he walked the lush floor and stopped before the red paneled door to Kent's room. As he lifted his arm to rap on the door, he felt a slight weight shift in the cuff of his jacket and two objects fell to the ground in a flash of silver. One of them landed at his foot while the other rolled behind the memory pod to the left of the door.

In the dim light, John stooped and picked up the tiny silver key that had fallen by his boot. "Well, I'll be damned." He laughed. So that's where the fucker had ended up. He had search high and low for it, and after failing miserably at Macha's attempted walk through of lock picking, they had finally used a bonesaw to cut through the chain.

Wondering what the other object was, he reached under the memory pod, fingers seeking, until they felt a hard disk shaped object. He dragged the item from under the pod and brushed the lint from the surface. The words "E Pluribus Unum" stared back at him from the silver quarter. One of many. Hancock swallowed, feeling light headed all of the sudden. He rested his hand on the wall, trying to make the world and his stomach stop swimming. He had forgotten all about it; this little piece of he and Macha that he had stored away for safe keeping. He rolled the quarter over his knuckles, watching it flash and shine as it flipped from ravaged finger to the next.

Angry for reasons he couldn't fathom, he palmed the coin and slipped in back in his cuff. No. he had to do this. For his people. He had no choice. It would be ok. It would all be ok. Just like his arrangement with the caravan; what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Knocking on the door a tad more aggressively than he planned, he waited impatiently until it cracked open, Kent's blue eye peeking through the gap in the door. The blue iris widened in astonishment when Kent saw who graced his doorstep.

"Mayor Hancock," He stated, a nervous twitch in his voice. He opened the door wide, standing back a step and adjusted the rumpled shirt of his night clothes. "I'm sorry. I-I wasn't expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Kent, my man." Hancock purred, letting himself in and closing the door behind him."You and I gotta have a little talk."


	18. Sparky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm.. so yeah.. my computer died, and i had to get it replaced. . And yet another loss in the family and I got really sick. Like.. had to go to emergency room sick. 2016 is starting out wonderful! My apologies for taking so long to update! I'm better now and back on track.
> 
> Edit: Special thanks to Red-Flare on tumblr. I commissioned the dance scene from the Castle and she nailed it! Check out her awesome artwork and rejoice in being a lover of all things Hancock!

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Sparky.

A soggy pile of mildewed rags and plastic bags tumbled down from the top of the garbage pile and landed with a wet smack against Macha's shin. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Macha shoved it away as her leg sunk deeper into the pile of refuse. The bag had left a green smear of some unidentified substance on her pants. It reeked of Limburger cheese mixed with body odor and the sharp scent of decay.

Deciding she didn't need to know what the stain was, Macha pressed forward, scaling up the mountain of filth. Her movement scattered more garbage causing the plink of tin cans to echo off the walls encompassing the dark alley. She retched as her ascent unearthed a stench so foul, Macha envisioned Cthulhu rising from the pit, his tentacled mass writhing among the fetid garbage like it was a welcome mat into their realm. At this rate, she wasn't certain Cthulhu could do more harm than the humans already had. He may just poke his head out, take one look and say "nope" and disappear back to the seventh circle of Hell. Macha's lips twitched in a grin at her internal dialogue, envisioning the fictitious monster's disgust at finding this world worse off than the purgatory it tried to escape.

She stumbled again, sending more odds and ends askew. A dull gleam caught her eye and she dove for the can that was on its way down the garbage landslide.

"Hah!" She spouted in triumph as she saved the aluminum can from being buried under a crumpled oil container and the broken remains of a street lamp. Her victory was short lived as her feet sunk deeper into the mound. She fell forward, bracing herself in the remains of some black tar-like goo that thoroughly coated her gloved hand.

"Ughhhh." She moaned in revulsion, withdrawing her limb from the pile. The thick viscous goop splattered against the red brick as she shook her hand in an attempt to remove the substance. If someone told me I would be rooting through garbage to find scrap aluminum at some point in my life, I would have laughed at them. She pondered as she tried to regain her footing. Something squelched under her boots as she righted herself and placed the can into her backpack.

She sighed as she slung the bag over her shoulders, scanning for the telltale silver glint of more of the precious metal. It was a critical component in repairing and upgrading her power armor and she had run short at the worst time. Every store front, coffee shop, grocery store, and apartment building in the vicinity had been combed for the elusive material. The unholy Cthulhu garbage pit that had accumulated in the alley way behind the buildings was a last resort. She only had a few days left before Hancock was supposed to meet her for their trek into the Glowing Sea and she had to have her power armor completed by then. Though, she considered. I'm eternally grateful that he's not here to see me dig around in garbage mountain. He'd be cracking jokes about how bad I smell the entire time I am falling on my ass. I can hear it now. "Phew. Is that YOU?! Cause if it is, you need to see a doctor!"

As if the universe heard her thoughts, the mailbox she had been resting one foot on dislodged from a tangle of wires and cables and sent her plummeting down the side on her rear like a sled launching off a hill of packed snow. She skidded to a stop, landing ungracefully at the convergence of yet another mass of detritus. A shower of dirt and god only knows what else rained down on to her, splattering against her coat.

"Terrific." She grumbled, picking herself out of the heap and dusting her breeches off. Her gloves came away smeared varying chromatic shades of brown, black, and green. It brought to mind a vivid memory of changing poor colicky Shaun's diaper a few weeks after she had switched him to formula. Color is spot on, she thought, fishing a conveniently located wad of cloth out the garbage and attempting to wipe off the sludge. It did little more than smear the stuff around, further imbedding it in the seam of the gloves.

With a grunt of revulsion, she tossed the rag into the pile ahead of her. That's when she saw it; gleaming in the setting sun like a beacon of hope, brighter than the Glowing One in the Kingsport lighthouse. On the other side of the second mound, an aluminum Bundt cake pan sat sandwiched between a bundle of old newspapers and a cracked coffee pot. Though weathered and grimy, it was exactly what she needed to complete the last modification on her power armor.

With renewed purpose, she clamored up the second mountain and plucked the pan from its malodorous grave. Macha shook out the water and caked on mud that had collected in the bottom of the pan and held it up for inspection. The aluminum had oxidized on a few of the fluted edges and on the central chimney, but once melted down the impurities would be cast off in slag leaving the purer form behind and would not interfere with her intended use.

As she crammed the pan into her backpack, a mewling whine caught her attention. Her head snapped up at the noise. With instincts honed from her outings in the wasteland, the gun was in Macha's hand before she was even consciously aware of it. Her finger rested lightly on the trigger as her gray eyes sought the source of the disturbance. The sound echoed off the buildings, distorting it and disguising the origins. Macha took a wary step over the crest of the mound, scanning for any potential threat. She cocked her head, listening for the sound of movement among the rubble. To her left, the clatter of shifting garbage made her start as she crept nearer.

The keening was pitched in distress as she rounded a massive tire , her revolver leveled towards the noise. Some trash shifted as a creature emerged from the pile. Her trigger finger twitched as a ghoulified hound hopped towards her on three legs, its head low in submission. The dog whined in agony, it's back limb twisted at an odd angle like a morbid version of Pasco's painting; all wrong and contorted. Even through the blistered skin, the tendons were visible; taunt and corded over a compound fracture that was healing improperly. Posturing , the dog whined at her again, its dark eyes almost pleading for help.

Macha bit her bottom lip and hesitated, pondering the dilemma before her. Well, it wasn't attacking her outright but that could be because it was too hurt. Should she take a chance and help the poor creature and risk it turning on her and attacking her? Or put it out of its misery? Or maybe just walk away? With the exception of Dogmeat, every canine she met in the wastes had tried to rip her throat out. She was about to go find a way to get Shaun back. She couldn't afford missing fingers or torn ligaments with the work she still had to finish on her power armor and a dangerous trek into the Glowing Sea ahead. Infection killed quickly in the wastes and even small cuts could claim lives. Her finger tightened on the trigger. This wasn't her problem. She had enough to deal with already. She couldn't risk being mauled in a back alley when she was so close to getting her family back together. Not over a dog.

"Go away," she gestured with her gun to the alleyway entrance, at least trying to give the hound the benefit of the doubt. "Shoo!"

The dog whimpered again. The scarred flesh puckered in pain around the creature's eyes as it hobbled closer, tail down and head ducked. God, it was both ugly and strangely cute at the same time. Its brown eyes were pools of warm chocolate, begging for aid. Macha extended her arm, the barrel of the gun directed at the mongrel's head. It was just a stupid dog. It wasn't worth it. Her hand shook as she stared down the barrel. It whined again its tail beginning to wag. That tiny gesture of friendship caused Macha to hesitate. Sighing, her heart aching, she holstered her weapon. She couldn't do it. She loved animals. Often, more than people. At least she understood animals and their motives. People… well, the more she learned about them, the more she loved Dogmeat.

"Alright." She lectured the dog. "But you bite me and I'll mount your head in my living room. Got it?"

The mongrel's tail circled uncertainly as Macha cautiously approached, her hand still resting on her gun. Slowly sliding her pack to the ground, she felt around until the slick glass of a stimpack vial brushed her fingers. Not daring to take her eyes off the canine, she edged a bit closer a looked for a viable spot to inject the needle. Macha frowned. The mongrel was mere skin and bones. The prominent backbone protruded in a disturbing manner and the dog's ribs mimicked a xylophone; a webbing of twisted skin stretched so tightly over the bones that each individual ribs were clearly defined. Where the heck was she supposed to inject it without hitting bone?

Macha fretted for a bit, angling the needle in various ways before finally deciding to inject it into the dog's thigh. The hound yelped and skittered away from the sharp pinch of the needle, but the powerful drugs were already kicking in. Before Macha's eyes the torn flesh fused together, the crippled limb righting itself; the bone snapping back in place and the tendons mending together. A new pink scar was all that marked what would have been a death sentence. The dog glanced at its now fully healed leg in confusion for a moment before yipping in excitement and running around in giddy circles at Macha's feet.

Macha laughed in spite of herself, but her hand hovered over her gun as the dog came closer. "Ok! OK! Easy! Down, boy!" Macha checked again and corrected herself. "Errr.. girl. Easy girl."

The mongrel arched her back and barked playfully, her tail wagging so violently with ardor her entire backside shook. Macha took a quick step back, nervous about the stray getting within snapping distance. Shouldering her pack and preparing to leave, she began the slow ascent up the mound, tensely watching the dog from the corner of her eye. She stopped in her tracks as the dog whined at her and looked back.

She was sitting there, almost obediently, head cocked to one side and ears half up as if inquiring where Macha thought she was going. Their eyes met and the rhythmic thump of the dog's tail bounded off the walls much like the mongrel had earlier. Macha grimaced with guilt, willing herself to walk on. She had done her part. The dog would live. This was the most trust she could offer in a cold world. She shouldn't have even risked helping an unknown animal that could have harmed her; wasting precious resources on it. She had lucked out with Dogmeat not attacking her the first time they met. She had been naïve to the state of the world then and just how perilous it was to trust any animal. How far could she push her luck now? What if she needed that stim somewhere along the road? What if she bleed out and died because she had felt pity for a dog? Goddamn she was an idiot.

The din of rattling trash came from behind her as the cur began to follow Macha. Oh Goddammit! She couldn't have it following her back to Hangman's Alley. What if it attacked someone.. or one of the Brahmin? Or had.. rabies or something? Besides, the settlers barely had enough food to go around. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed.

And what if the barking drew the attention of raiders or mutants? Scavenging enough resources to build the pathetic battlements that lined the Alley had been difficult and repairing them was a challenge. They had been hit hard by raiders the first week she had arrived and they had taken massive damage before the assailants were forced to withdraw. The raiders had shot up the generator and it kept losing power. With weeks till the next provisioner arrived from Oberland, she had rigged the damage turrets and generator as best she could. No, her people had enough problems. No need to add more.

"No!" Macha stamped her foot and lunged at the dog, trying to scare it off. "Stay! Bad dog!"

The hound skittered away for a moment, tail tucked between her legs. She gave that questioning look again. Slowly, the dog crawled forward, testing to see how close she could get. It almost became a game. Macha walked a few steps, the dog trailed behind until she turned and yelled at or threw a random piece of trash in the general vicinity of the dog. It back off a few steps and then continued to follow her. Always the brown eyes patient. She was waiting; begging to be loved in the way only animals could- unconditionally.

Sighing in aggravation at her own soft heart, Macha relented, deciding to trust the beast and waited for it to approach again. Macha reached out a tentative hand and gently patted the mutt on her gnarled head. The dog leaned into the touch, it's eyes closing in ecstasy as she scratched behind the burned and ripped ears. This is a bad idea, Macha thought. This wasn't her responsibility. Why couldn't she just walk away? She couldn't save everyone, no matter how hard she tried. Even as Macha thought that, the dog pressed her nose against her knee, nudging her hand for continued pets.

"Fine. I give up. You win. Happy now?" The hound acknowledged this with a content chuff, a bit of drool smearing with the colorful remnants of the dumpster ooze. Yes, apparently she was happy. Unlike Macha who was covered in slime, reeking, and now had to figure out what to do with a dog. The dog, uncaring about Macha's dilemma, bounced around with energy Macha was envious of.

"Jesus, you are a live wire, aren't you? I'm going to call you Sparky." Macha stood, patting her leg to get the hound to follow as she walked toward the alley exit. "Come on, Sparky. Let's introduce you to the town."

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The green font fell across the screen like sheets of rain, zeros and ones pouring down in a neon blur until they abruptly stopped at a flashing curser that pulsed in warning.

(Syntax error)(Syntax error)(Syntax error)(Syntax error)(Syntax error)

"Wonderful," Macha groaned to herself. "Forget one little comma or bracket and now I have to go through all that coding again." Grumbling in thinly veiled frustration, she switched off her Pipboy and unplugged it from the back leg of her power armor. The cord snapped back into place, the plug concealed within the Pipboy's casing. I'll deal with that later, she deliberated, unfolding her numb legs and stretching towards the overcast sky. Time for a chem break. At the thought of the sweet release that awaited her, her arm began to itch, her fingers twitching in response. She had been at this all day and deserved some peace. Something just for her.

Her upgrade to the kinetic servos would have to wait till tomorrow anyways. Rain was coming. Thunder rumbled overhead, the looming clouds dark and heavy with precipitation that threatened to be unleashed at any moment. Macha wrinkled her nose, dreading the scent of wet garbage that would soon permeate the air around Hangman's Alley.

Just another one of the joys of city living she thought as she squeezed by a settler and made her way towards the stairs to her loft like sleeping area. She hopped over a steaming pile of Brahmin dung while dancing out of the way of another settler. This was one of her least favorite settlements. Cramped and wedged between two tall structures, the only way to build had been up. The result had ended up looking similar to MC Escher's Relativity; complete with a labyrinth of excessive staircases that sometimes seemed to go nowhere. You couldn't walk five feet without bumping into a building, person, or cud chewing Brahmin.

And I made it worse by bringing back a dog, she mused as she passed by the cooking station. Sparky was busy having her belly rubbed by Agnes as the old woman stirred the bubbling pot of stew over the fire. The dog's tongue dangled out of her jaws as she wiggled with delight under the crone's age spotted fingers, one back leg involuntarily kicking. Well, maybe not worse. Macha smirked, but certainly more crowded. Despite her reservations, the settlers had welcomed the hound with open arms and even excitement at the prospect of a pet. Their normally stoic and hard faces had broken out into many a grin at Sparky's antics; laughing with mirth as she had tossed a rag in the air and thrashed it around in play or chased the children around the poles in an impromptu game of tag. Agnes had even made it her personal goal to fatten the dog up by feeding her scraps of meat and left over bones. Surprising, since the older woman was notorious for rapping any greedy fingers with a hot ladle that came too close to the pot before the dinner bell.

Catching Macha's scent on the wind, Sparky flipped over and jaunted over to her rescuer, nosing Macha's hand until she was begrudgingly rewarded with attention. Someone had fashioned an old leather belt studded with Nuka-Cola caps into a collar that sat loosely around the canine's neck. "It's been three days and you are already spoiled," Macha teased the dog, ruffling her ears. "Brat."

The light's overhead flickered and died, prompting the settlers to look around in concern. With a hiss and dying click, the turrets that lined the battlements powered off, their heads drooping as if in shame at their failure. Of course. Right before a storm with nightfall approaching. Vexed that she would have to delay her fix, Macha picked her way over to the busted generator, vigorously scratching her arm under her coat. She could already hear Luz's cursing as the mechanic pried off the cover from the bullet hole ridden machine. Black smoke poured out of the engine, causing Macha's eyes to burn.

"Luz," She called out to the ghoul bent over the generator. "Still on the fritz?"

"Wadda ya expect, General." The blond said around the screwdriver held between the crook of her neck, adjusting some internal mechanism with a socket wrench. She blew a piece of blonde hair out of her eyes before angrily tucking it back under her bandana. "We only rigged it an I'm still apullin bullets outta it. Surprised it lasted this long."

"Maybe it's the battery," Macha observed, kneeling down to examine the machine. She waived the smoke away and peered into the main housing, grease and soot dotting her fingers as she checked the inner workings. "A cell may have ruptured and it can't hold a charge anymore. Let's get the battery out and inspect the cells-"

Abruptly, Sparky's ears perked up and the dog tore off towards the main gate, barking in a threatening manner. Now what? Macha stood, wiping the grime on her pants, her attention focused on the gate.

"We've got incoming, General." One of the gate guards motioned for Macha, gun hoisted and ready.

Hancock? No, it's to early. "Ghoul?" She shouted to the guard, just to be sure.

"Human." The guard informed her. "Coming up the alley. Alone.. for now."

Macha glanced at Luz, both thinking the same dreadful thought. With the generator down, most of their defenses were offline. Perfect timing for an ambush. "Go on," Luz said, turning back to the machine and loosening a lug nut. "I'll continue to work on this."

Leaving the mechanic to her work, Macha broke into a jog and scaled the ladder to the overlook, the rungs under her feet creaking as she half leapt over the last rung and took point against the guard post. She rested the tripod of her sniper rifle on the barricade, focusing her gaze through the scope until the figure came into focus.

He was a perfectly ordinary man. Middle aged and balding, his newsboy cap clutched nervously between his hands. Worried fingers wrung the hat as he scanned the battlements, knowing he probably had several guns trained on him. Indeed, Macha had her cross hairs perfectly aligned with the top of his skull. All it would take was the smallest amount of pressure to end his life.

"Hello.." He called, putting his hands up and stopped walking. "I.. uh… I heard your radio signal.. well.. I did. It's been going in and out for the last few days. I almost had given up hope that this place existed. But I made it. Please. I'm desperate. I'm just looking for someplace safe. I..I can work."

"Are you armed?"

"Just.. a small pipe pistol to stay safe."

"What's your name?" Macha called out, her grey pupil never wavering from the scope. She scanned his form, checking for any signs of heavy weaponry, grenades, or anything else that could cause serious damage.

"R-Rory. My friends call m-me Roy. This is the Minutemen.. right? I've traveled so far. I'm.. so tired. Please." The hat was quickly becoming a crumpled mess in Roy's hands. Macha bet the man was wishing he had never come here, but this was a necessary evil. In this world, you never knew who to trust. An innocuous looking person could be a raider scout or crazed worshiper of Atom.

Instead of answering, Macha glanced at the other two snipers' nest that lined the alley. They gave her the "all clear" signal. Well, who ever he was, he was alone. That bode well. Yet, something bothered Macha. She couldn't put her finger on what, exactly, but something seemed off somehow. He seemed harmless. Mostly skin and bones. Maybe the chems are making me paranoid, she thought. First the dog, now this.

"Put your weapon on the ground and back away."

With one hand still in the air and deliberately slow motions, Rory un-holstered his simple pipe gun and tossed in the direction of the gate.

Macha located Sparky, whom was still barking and lunging at the gate, claws scraping against the wood. Leaving her perch, she slid down the ladder and went to the gate. Grabbing the dog by the collar, she pulled the mutt back. "I'm sending out a guard to pat you down." Macha yelled over the barking dog. "I shouldn't have to tell you that several guns are trained on you. If you make any sudden moves or we find any hidden weapons on you, we will open fire."

She nodded her consent to the nearest guard, who carefully opened the massive gates protecting the compound. Sparky darted for the opening, snarling and nearly dragged Macha forward. She scowled, yanking the dog back before kneeling to tighten the makeshift collar. "Stop it!" Macha hissed at the dog. "What's gotten into you? Sit!"

The mutt whined, but obediently sat at Macha's heel. Her front paws danced impatiently on the cobbled stone and the low growl never left her throat. Sparky fixated her eyes on the stranger through the crack in the gate, her teeth bared as the guard searched him. Other than a few odds and ends, the guard wasn't turning much up.

"He's clean, General!" The guard supplied, retrieving the gun from the cracked pavement.

"Alright. Let him in!"

A very relieved Rory donned his hat and stepped through the gates, jumping slightly as they slammed behind him. Chuckling nervously, he took back his weapon and examined the surrounding people. A small crowd of settlers had gathered to investigate the newcomer. Next to the soiled and grime covered settlers, Rory seemed almost clean.

Macha's mind had an epiphany. THAT was what had seemed off about Rory. The man was cleaner than anyone she had seen in months, including herself. She was still sporting the lowly remnants of her dumpster drive, appearing as though a child had finger painted her uniform in mock camo. Before Macha could dwell on her thoughts any further, Rory offered his hand to Macha in greeting. "As I live and breathe," he said with something akin to awe. "The actual General of the Minutemen. I cannot tell you what an honor it-"

His salutation was cut short as Sparky dove towards him, powerful jaws snapping shut where his fingers had been moments ago.

"Sparky! NO! Bad dog!" Macha hissed in embarrassment, reining the dog in by the collar. If not for her iron grip, Rory would have been offering bloody stumps instead of a friendly handshake. "I'm so sorry for the harsh greeting," Macha said apologetically, tugging Sparky away from him. "She hasn't snapped at anyone since she got here."

Agnes reached over Macha looped a piece of rope around the dog's collar, taking the dog from her while quietly shushing the still growling hound. "I'll take her, General." The old crone tugged the dog away from the newcomer and tied the dog up to one of the support beams that held aloft the sleeping quarters. Sparky strained at the rope, only settling once Agnes placed a large bone down for her to gnaw. Pupils gleaming in the firelight, she began working the bone, her jaws cracking it in half to get to the marrow. Her eyes never left Rory's form.

Rory took it in stride. "I understand. Can't be too careful. And she's just doing her job protecting the place. Maybe in a few days she'll warm up to me. I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity. I'm here to help anyway I can."

"Happy to have you." Macha said, this time reaffirming her statement with a solid handshake. "Do you have any special skills? Mechanical? Medical?"

Rory laughed good naturedly. "No, ma'am. I'm afraid I come from a line of humble farmers. I know my way around the land though. Ain't a tato grown that can escape my green thumb."

Awfully dirt free for a farmer. The little voice in her mind whispered, but Macha shrugged it off attributing her growing annoyance to her chem cravings. "Yeah, great." She said distracted, scratching her arm again. "I'll give you a quick tour and we can set you up in the vegetable plot."

There wasn't much to tour in the cramped space and the addition of even one more body seemed to make the hovel that much more claustrophobic. Working quickly, she pointed out the meager amenities. "Water pumps are over there along with privies. We have an electric pump, but it's down at the moment. Most sleeping areas are above us. Just pick an unclaimed bed. Agnes handles the community meals. Breakfast at seven am, lunch at noon, dinner at six."

She nodded towards the woman, carefully directing Rory around the cooking pit to avoid the dog. "I'm afraid you caught us at a bad time. Bandits hit us hard and we are still recovering from the damage. One of the reasons our broadcast signal has been going in and out. Power is …questionable at the moment. Speaking of. Excuse me a moment."

She left Rory under the eves of an overhang and met Luz at the workbench. Macha would have preferred to discuss this in private- much further away from prying ears-, but there was really no where to go. Luz flagged her down, a frown tugging the ruined flesh around her mouth rigid, making the scarring more prominent. The battery sat on the a steel shelf, oozing lime green electrolyte steadily down the side. A crack ran the span of one corner of the punctured plastic casing, exposing the contents of the cell. "Ya were right." She drawled in her thick accent. " Battery all torn up and leaking acid. Pulled the remains of a .45 out of it. Won't hold a charge."

Macha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was getting a headache and this wasn't helping. They needed those turrets back online and soon. And she really.. REALLY needed a fix. "Can we rig it again?"

"Uhhh.. Suppose, but I don't advise it. Would be unstable. One spark too close an' the whole thing could catch fire. Then the battery could explode. I don't think I have to tell ya how bad that would be. Needs replacin'."

"Explode?" Rory chuckled nervously, butting into the conversation. "She's joking…right?"

Crap. Macha mentally cursed, jumping slightly as the newcomer peered over her shoulder at the leaky battery. Rory had overheard their conversation. That was exactly what she hadn't wanted. "A very small risk." Macha lied. "Aren't you happy you showed up now? Don't worry. Luz is the best mechanic this side of the river. She could fix a vertibird with a straw, duct tape, and mutfruit if she had too."

Luz huffed and rolled her eyes. "General, I resent that. I'm better than MacGyver. I could do it just with the straw."

Macha snorted in laughter at the ghoul's Pre-War reference. It was nice having someone to relate to, though by Rory's face, he was completely lost.

"Sorry to cut the tour short, but I'm needed here. You understand, right? A General's work is never done. Not to worry, just a small setback that we will have ironed out in no time. Let me get someone to show you to the garden." She snagged a passing farmer and instructed the woman to lead Rory to the furthest plot of land that needed tending. As far away as she could get him from this topic.

After the man left, Macha dedicated her full attention to Luz and the looming dilemma they faced. "We can build another battery. I have some left over lead from working with my power armor to make electrodes, but I need an acid to use as an electrolyte. When's the next supply run due?"

"Maybe end of this week. Think we can get it to last that long?"

"Do we have a choice?"

No. Not if they wanted to stay alive, let alone, have access to lights and running water. "There's some military grade duct tape up at the work bench. Let's see if we can patch it back up with a combo of that and melted rubber. I'll call a meeting and let people know to keep fire away from the generator at all times. We will run it sparingly. I'll go tomorrow and see if I can find a bottle of antifreeze or coolant to make a new battery."

Luz gave her a dubious look. This was nearly as dangerous as leaving the turrets off. The explosive mixture of oxygen and hydrogen that could gather at the top of a damaged battery was a recipe for a sulfuric acid bomb. If that went off in these small quarters… well, she'd be the prettiest looking one here.. if she survived. She kept her mouth shut though. The General had to know the risks. And it was better than leaving the settlement unprotected throughout the night. Either way.. the odds were against them.

A streak of lightening flared across the sky followed closely by a crack of thunder the rattled Macha's teeth. As if on queue by some devious god, the heavens opened up and rain began to fall in earnest. The plink of fat rain drops on the corrugated metal of the lean-tos and shanties thrummed out a pleasant tune. The sky darkened further as the black clouds converged on the Alley, smothering them in shadows. Macha felt the cold darkness seep into her skin, reminding her that they were without light or defenses in a cold cruel world.

"Do it."

"A'right, General." Luz concurred, fetching the duct tape from the workbench. "Gonna be a heck of a night."

Macha nodded her head in silent agreement, not knowing how prophetic Luz's words would end up being.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Rain barrels are all set, General." The guard saluted her sharply before joining the rest of the settlers around the cooking pit. The bright fire that had once caused the stew pot to bubble had been extinguished, a long wisp of smoke disappearing in the rain. Sparky had been retied to Agnes's bed -away from Rory- and while the dog no longer barked, she her hadn't greeted any of the settlers with her typical happy attitude. She was transfixed on Rory, pacing when he sat down for dinner, low growl still rumbling in her throat.

Well, Macha thought following the stream of rain that fell from the slanted roof of one shack into the awaiting barrel. What once had bee a fire barrel had been repurposed to capture rainwater in case she was unable to get the water pumps back online any time soon. At least we will have water. But what the hell am I going to do about that dog? I can't turn her out, people have grown attached to her. But, I don't want her hurting anyone either. I knew I should have just left her.

Lightening lit up the night, the eyes of over a dozen people focused on her, resigning her to deal with it in the morning. There were more important matters and the settlers were judging her; looking to her, depending on her. She felt a moment of overwhelming panic as she met their gaze. What was she doing? She was no leader. Couldn't they see that? She couldn't even decide what to do about a dog. She swallowed her fear, steadying herself as she spoke with conviction.

"I know things have been tough lately," she began, accepting a bowl of now cold radstag stew that Agnes offered. "I have to ask you have just a bit more patience. The generator is not functioning as well as it should due to damaged sustained in the last fire fight. We will have to use it sparingly. That means rationing water and double shifts of guard duty in case the turrets break down."

She paused, waiting for the protests; the groans of resentment and frustration that the people of her time would have given if they were even slightly inconvenienced. None came. The settlers were grateful for what little they had. It was pointless to complain about the lights, the rain, or even the lack of defenses. That was simply the way of things in the Commonwealth. People took what little they were given and were thankful for it. There was no point griping over things one couldn't control. You did what you had to survive.

"We were able to get the generator running for the evening." The generator joined the conversation by sputtering and making an unseemly grinding noise before puttering along. Macha laughed nervously. Oh boy. It wasn't supposed to sound like that. "Ummm… Due to the hasty nature of the repairs, I have to ask everyone to keep fire away from the generator as a precaution. No smoking anywhere near it. At all. And the cooking pit will need to be moved as far away as possible. First thing in the morning I need a few volunteers to help Agnes relocate the fire pit."

A few hands were raised and it was settled quickly and without debate. People wanted to eat, they worked. There was no petty bickering over why someone else should do it. Everyone pitched in, everyone survived.

"I'm not sure if everyone has had a chance to meet Rory yet, but he's the newest addition to our group." Most people gave the man a polite nod. He touched the tip of his hat in acknowledgement. "He'll be working the gardens, so please do what you can to make him feel at home. I know these last few days have been challenging, but we will get through this. We are working on repairing the generator and will have full power restored as soon as possible. Thank you for all your hard work and understanding."

She stayed a bit longer, answering the odd question or two before ending the meeting and retreating towards her bed. It had been a long day. Every part of her hurt, especially her head and she was really starting to crave a chem break. She put her untouched bowl of food down and quickened her pace.

Sweet release lay in the locked ammo box under her bed in the form of purple pills and it had been calling to her all day. The thought made her skin tingle. Slipping that mentat under her tongue and revealing in the smoothness until she cracked it open and the euphoria rushed through her body. It would make her aches and pains disappear- her fears and constant worrying would subside for a sort while, bringing her peace. She fulfilled her obligations and now this.. this was her time.

That's why when Rory interrupted her purposefully trek by placing a hand on her arm , she nearly came unglued.

"General," he hesitated. "Were do I sleep?"

I don't care, Macha nearly said. Instead, she sighed, unbunched the tension in her shoulders and drew a deep breath, counting to ten before she answered. "The sleeping area is mainly upstairs. Didn't anyone show you the loft?"

"Yeah," he replied, worrying his hat again, "But… it's just.. I."

Macha sighed. "What, Rory? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

The man's fair skin turned chartreuse as he continued to stare at the ground. "I know I have no right to ask… I'm new here and all. Haven't exactly earned my keep yet. I'm.. I'm scared of heights."

The muscle under Macha's left eye twitched. Oh of all the petty.. inane.. she counted to ten again, controlling her breathing. Couldn't she catch a break? Just one. Was it really too much to ask? "Ok. No big deal. We can bring a bed down for you. Wouldn't you feel safer upstairs though? Away from the dog?"

"Nah, she's tied up. It will give her a chance to get to know my scent.. you know, warm up to me though.. maybe we can keep the bed far away just in case?"

Macha snorted. Far away was relative here. Searching for a viable area to place a bed, she was reminded once more just how much a commodity space was in the Alley. "Sure.. we can just put you…ummmm." No, that wouldn't work. That was right next to the Brahmin pen. Neither would that, unless he wanted to weave between a bunch of support poles to get to his bed.

"What about over there?"

"By the workbench?" Macha made a face. Not her top pick. Sure it was far enough away from Sparky, but it was downwind of a generator that spewed out noxious fumes even when it WAS working properly. "I suppose if you don't mind the smell of gas, grease, and metal and the noise.."

"I don't mind. I'm used to sleeping with one eye open. It will be nice just to not sleep on the ground for once."

She couldn't argue with that. She and Hancock both had spent their fair share of nights on numbing concrete or broken and crumbling tiles. The mattresses here may be lumpy and smell faintly of mold, but it was a better alternative. "Alright. If that's what you want."

"It'll be perfect."

"Perfect…right." Macha mumbled, taking her leave to find someone to help her cart a bed down a unbalanced flight of stairs so she could finally claim her own bed.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Finally! Macha unceremoniously threw her jacket over the back of a chair. Running her fingers through her dirty hair, she to finger comb it into some semblance of order as it fell from the pony tail. She gave up and sat on the bed. After kicking her boots off, she laid back on her lumpy mattress with a groan. "Ughhhhhhhhhh.. I'm too old for this crap."

Two hundred and some odd years too old. Everything hurt. Her thighs and calves burned from running up and down the stairs all day. Her shoulders ached from carrying the bed down a flight of stairs. Her back was killing her from bending over her Pipboy all morning working on reprogramming her power armor. And her head, it hurt worse of all; pounding like the drums in some ancient ritual, her brain resting on a bloody pedestal, sacrificed to some ancient god.

The offensive scent of her unwashed body washed over her as the wind picked up. The rain slanted through the haphazard boards of her hovel, misting her lightly. At least I'll be cool, she thought as she rolled over and retrieved the gunmetal green ammo box she had stashed under her bed. With the quick twist of a bobby pin, the cache inside was displayed like an assortment of habit forming skittles. A rainbow of orange, berry, and grape mentats filled half the container. Taste the rainbow, she snickered.

Macha shook the box and admiring the pills as they shifted, undecided which flavor she wanted. The orange made her too alert, too hyper. She'd hear every squeak and rattle outputted by the damaged generator and it was already irritatingly loud despite being two stories up. Next. The berry made her think too much. She'd be up all night, overthinking every little thing, like Sparky worrying her bone. The thought of the predicament with Rory and Sparky frustrated her. What was she supposed to do? Leave the poor dog tied up for the rest of it's life? That seemed cruel. Cage her? That seemed crueler still. Maybe she could have Agnes work on training her? It wouldn't be fair to ask Rory to move to another settlement. Maybe she could take the dog with her to Sunshine Tidings? Plenty of room to roam.. but that would disappoint so many people that had grown attached to her. There was no guarantee Sparky wouldn't react to someone there the same way.

As if on queue, the dog whined in lament, mourning her freedom. Macha felt a flash of guilt. Maybe I should just bring her up her with me? The bed was big enough and rather empty since Hancock wasn't sharing it. She smiled at the thought of her smart mouthed ghoul. How artfully he had integrated into her life, like he had always been there. They had departed under less than favorable terms, but she found herself staring up at the night sky, thankful that despite the distance, they shared the same view of the luminous moon. She missed his ugly mug.

What if Sparky tries to attack Hancock when he shows up? Or Shaun? Stop. She chided her mind. Yeah, that settled it. Berry was definitely out of the question. So that left grape or regular. The dog howled long and sad, causing Macha to peer out the window. From her vantage point, she could just see Sparky straining at her bonds. Agnes's gray head appeared as she shuffled along towards Sparky. She placed a pan of stew in front of the dog and gave her a consolatory pat on the head. The dog inhaled the food then proceeded to look from the bowl to Agnes in an accusatory manner.

"Don't you look at me like that," Macha heard the old woman retort over her shoulder as she returned to her bed. "You've been fed. You hush now. One night tied up won't kill you."

Sparky whined a bit more, but when no one paid her any mind, she circled the ground and settled down, still facing Rory's location. Macha picked out a handful of grape and regular mentats and chewed them as she watched the dog's eyes droop until she slept soundly. Deciding that Agnes was right- one night tied up wouldn't harm the dog- she sprawled out on her bed and drifted off right as the walls began to melt.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The pillow wouldn't fit into her ears, no matter how hard she tried to widen her skull and how much marshmallow it became. Too much sound. It hurt her brain. Some where in the back of her mind, Macha reminded herself to fire the noise makers that were invading her ears. They were too good at their jobs and the marshmallow pillow brigade had failed to stave off the attack.

"Shut upppppppp." She slurred, swatting her hand a the imaginary cavalry of sounds waves that rode over her body, hooves thundering and shouting their war cries.

"General!" They hollered, mocking her. Spears of sound stabbed her temples. They were in here ears; a Kumi-daiko preforming with her ear drums. The mallet crashed down on the drums. BOOM! BOOM! And still, they taunted her.

"General!" Huh. That one kinda sounded familiar. The cry came again and a very high and disoriented Macha, swung her fist at the noise in an attempt to silence it. She faceplanted on the ground, cocooned in her sheets as the wild swing of her arm flung her from her bed.

"Wha?!" Blinking slothfully, Macha took note of her surroundings. The grain of the wooden floor planks came into focus, then promptly swirled into tiny mouths. They began laughing at her as she floundered with the sheets. Like an ungainly butterfly, she shed the sheets and stumbled to her bare feet.

"General! Help!"

The cry jolted her senses, trying to worm its way through the fog in her mind. Macha lurched towards the window, taking deep breaths. Her bloodshot eyes roved over the buildings, seeking out the owner of the distressing cry. Buildings blurred together, a slurry of color as she willed her body to obey the misfiring commands her brain was sending along her nerves. Everything was a kaleidoscope of colors and noise, bombarding her overtaxed senses.

Picking something to focus on, Macha's narrowed gaze zeroed in on some movement below. Some snake like thing moving in the wind. The rain pelted her face as her dilated pupils finally locked onto the object and her brain was able to somewhat understand what it was seeing.

A frayed rope dangled from the support beam, buffeted by the wind. A rope. A rope that up until recently had something at the end. Something important. A cry of pain shore through the rain soaked night. And another sound. Menacing and dangerous. A growl. The rope. A growl. Slowly, the image came together. What should have been at the end of the rope. A dog. A dog that was no longer there.

"Shit," Macha said reaching for her rifle. It slipped from uncoordinated fingers and clattered on the floor. Cursing again, Macha dove for her weapon and bolted out the door, slinging the strap over her torso. Around her, others were stirring from their beds, roused by the cries. Macha vaulted down the stairs, her momentum sending her slipping down the soaked steps. She caught the rung of the ladder just as her feet slipped out from under her. With a hissed in pain as her shins bashed against the stairs, she let go and dropped to the ground.

Agnes was upon her in moments, gnarled hands pulling Macha towards the generator. A disoriented Macha was half dragged half stumbled towards the commotion. She blinked stupidly as Agnes pointed towards two blobby shapes dancing around each other. The pinkish one was small and leaping at the twin longs tubes that jutted from the center of its mass. It took Macha a moment to process what she was seeing.

Rory was clutching a bloody arm to his chest, his fist balled up tight as a buffer against pain. His brown coat had been shredded and blood coated his forearm. His leg was also torn open. Part of his trousers flapped against his bleeding leg as he ducked behind the generator, desperate for some barrier between him and the attacking hound.

"Shoot it!" He screamed when he saw Macha, hobbling around the puffing generator as the dog circled and tried to cut him off, teeth snapping inches from his ankle.

Sparky's teeth were bared and stained red. Blood smeared her muzzle and the remainders of Rory's clothing hung from her jowls. The dark eyes that had once seemed so friendly, now pierced the gloom; hunting. She lunged at Rory as he got too close and he had to kick her off him before her jaws snapped shut around his leg. "Shoot it!"

"Sparky! Sssstop!" Macha hollered, her voice slurring from the chems. NO. This couldn't be happening! This was exactly what she had feared. The dog didn't heed her call. Not even an ear flicked in her direction. It was obvious that the hound would not stop until one of them was dead.

Others were beginning to gather, their weapons drawn, yet no one fired. They all looked to her- their leader- to make the call. Macha's heart sank. Of course she was the best choice. One of the few snipers here that could ensure the bullet found the proper mark. She didn't want to kill the dog.. but what choice did she have? She had sworn to protect her people. She had brought this creature here knowing the risks.

Taking a stabilizing breath, Macha flipped the safety off her rifle and rested the butt of the gun on her shoulder. Triggering VATS, she lined up her shot. The electrical impulses from the Pipboy sped up her arm, relaying the data to her brain in bright green images. The familiar VATS screen popped up on the viewer. It calculated the best chance of a clean hit on the dog. Seventy seven percent chance for a body shot. Sixty eight for head. Fifty for the hind leg. Maybe she could just shoot her in the leg to stop her from attacking? Wait.. No .. that was to hit Rory in the stomach.. or.. wait… no… the dog? The images begin to overlap and skip, the numbers a jumble of info blinking in and out of existence.

Sweat trickled down Macha's brow mixing with the rain. Blinking hard, she attempted to will herself to concentrate .. but her scrambled brain couldn't make sense of what it was seeing. Green numbers scattered across her vision like a colony of disturbed insects. Her sights wavered, unable to lock onto a target as rain poured down. She pulled away from her weapon and shook her head, trying to clear it.

"General! DO SOMETHING!" Agnes yelled.

Rory had run into the open panel on the generator and clotheslined himself. He was now prone on the ground, his good hand held out as if to fend off the incoming teeth as he crawled away from the animal. Sparky was lunging again, this time launching her lithe body towards Rory's exposed throat. Rows of teeth that could crush bone and sunder flesh came closer and closer to that vital beating vein. There was no time to think, no time to second guess. She had to act.

The dog's bald head zoomed into scope. Seventy five percent. Eighty. No.. sixty eight. No.. eighty eight. Macha's dominant eye targeted a number and she squeezed the trigger as the dog collided with Rory. The shot was deafening in the small space, echoing off the walls. Both the dog and the man fell backwards in the mud, neither moving for a moment.

"Rory!" Macha cried out. She ran to his side and froze. The top of his skull was missing. Grey matter was casually mixing with the mud and flecks of ivory bone painted the side of the generator. He was undeniably dead. Oh god. What had she done?!

"Y-you… shot him." One of the settlers gasped. Panic seized Macha with a vice like grip. She took a step away from the body, the eyes of her settlers boring into her soul. They looked to each other with unease and she felt the tension in the air. The disapproving faces stood out from the darkness. She could see the word that no one spoke; murderer.

"I…I didn't mean.. t-the dog... I was aiming at the dog. It was an accident." No. They couldn't judge her for this. It was raining and the middle of the night. She had just woken up to chaos. It was dark even with the lights and.. and. And you are high. The voice in the back of her mind said.

Sparky picked that moment to extricate herself from the body, shaking her head from the din of the bullet. She sported a graze mark along her shoulder and spine, but was otherwise unfazed. Like nothing had happened, Sparky hopped over to Macha, her tail wagging. She spun and a circle- barking- and looked up at the General, seemingly proud at what she had done. Blood still smeared her skin, highlighting the ghoulifed dog's exposed flesh, making her a gruesome visage. Her muzzle dripped with gore. The drugs in Macha's system distorted her vision, making the hound seem monstrous and vile.

Macha's lip curled in disgust. She had saved this creature, trusted it, tried to give it a home and welcomed it. And this.. THIS was how she was repaid for her kindness?! It had attacked one of her settlers. One of HER people. Someone she was responsible for and was supposed to protect. And because of this.. this mutt, Macha had failed. Rory was dead and it was…her fault.. No. No, it was the dog's fault…all the dog's fault. This stupid fucking dog.

Macha leveled the barrel of the gun and shot Sparky point blank in the side. The dog yelped and fell over, her eyes holding a single burning question: Why? She tried to stand and collapsed with a pathetic noise. Her eyes bore into Macha, still searching, her tail still trying to wag.

No one moved. No one breathed. Macha felt the weight of their stares crush her as the dog bled out. Someone could have stepped forward with a stimpak, but no one did. Perhaps it was fear that kept them rooted in place. She had just murdered one of them in cold blood. Perhaps it was practicality. This had to be done. They all knew that. There was no room in the settlement for a savage creature that attacked people. If she didn't do it, one of them would have to. Better her than them.

She steeled her emotions against the whimpers that tore her heart asunder. Agnes- pragmatic, austere Agnes-put a hand on the dog and stroked her head. The dog's breathing was labored, her ribs expanding with great effort, each breath becoming shallower. Time slowed and the rain came down harder. Second became minutes- minutes hours- as the rain added to the gravity of the moment. Pat pat pat on the roofs. Fat drops measured time that was otherwise infinite. A sob wretched from the old woman's throat as the dog took its final shuddering exhale and Macha looked away. She would not feel bad. Not for a stupid dog. She would mourn Rory. Rory who's life her errant shot had cut short.

"General, you need to see this." The captain of her guards raised her voice over the rain. It broke through the static in Macha's mind and she willed her body to move. She needed to move and do something. Anything other than just stand there. She came around the body to meet the kneeling guard. "I was going to prep the body to move and noticed this."

Refusing to look at the dog, Macha climbed over Sparky's corpse and joined her guards. The urge to vomit descending on her as she knelt near the body and watched in horror as the woman fished out a shiny piece of metal embedded in Rory's brain. Semi spherical, the object was made of stainless steel and was studded with red LEDs that pulsed dimly. An implant of some kind made with superior technology.

"Synth." A guard muttered.

Synth. The word was whispered around like an oath in low tones. Like just saying it invoked the speaker as the next to be taken and replaced. Within moments, the single word had traveled fully across the entire settlement. Families huddled closer together and any rage or agitation over Rory's demise was quickly replaced by another emotion: fear.

"There's more," Luz interjected. The mechanic said moving around the body. "I couldn't figure out why the front panel to the generator was open. I know we closed it. Then I saw this."

Rory's wounded arm had fallen away from his body. A flash of brass caught Macha's eye as Luz pointed to the item clutched in his fist. A flip lighter. Luz pointedly gazed at the open generator and Macha had to steady herself with her hand in the mud. He had overheard them talking about what could happen if a wayward spark got too close to the generator. This was deliberate sabotage. If he had held that flame to the damaged battery the explosion would have obliterated everyone in the settlement.

He would have killed us all if Sparky… Macha blanched. The dog. She had known all along and was trying to warn them. And Macha had killed her. The sweating was starting now. And her hands were shaking. The events of the night sobering her to the point of discomfort. She hadn't known.

"General?" The captain of the guard questioned as Macha stood shakily to her feet. Macha's nails dug into her arm as she was overwhelmed by the sea of faces that threatened to roll over her in a tidal wave of terror. There wasn't time to think or feel. Only act.

"Secure the area." She was the General now, pretending to be in control. Pretending to know what was going on. Pretending she wasn't higher than shit and scared out of her fucking mind. She needed to get a handle on this before people became hysterical. She concentrated on her words, trying to control the slurring."I w-want a full swheep of the perimeter. Turn away any others that try and join ush until...um...until I get more information. Keep an eye on your loved ones and report any changes in behavior or strange activity to Captain Andros. Luz, shut down the generator until its fully repaired. The rest of you get some sleep sho you'll be fresh to cover your shift tomorrow."

The influx of questions and protests nearly drowned out the rain. "Enough." Macha raised her voice; commanding them and commanding her brain and body to keep it together just a little longer. "I know yoush are scared, but we are safe for the moment. You all knows I'm going to the Glowing Sea to find the Institute and put a stop to this. Until then, be alert and...keep... keep your wits about you. You are all strong. So Strong. All survivors. We need to band together and look out for each other. That's all we can do at the moment."

The crowd slowly dispersed to their homes, leaving an atmosphere of dismay and uncertainty in their wake. Macha was no fool. No one would sleep tonight. Certainly not her. More orders where given about the bodies , burials, and checking supplies and weapons in case they were walled in. No one knew if the Institute would send more of these impostors to finish what Rory had tried to start. No one knew if this was their last night on Earth.

The first rays of dawn where creeping around the buildings when Macha finally headed to her bunk. She let her body fall on the bed, too drained to care about the fact her gun was still slung over her shoulder and digging into her spine and her feet were caked in mud.

She knew. The damn dog knew all along. Her mind raced, nearly accosting her with info now that psychical labor could no longer keep the thoughts at bay. She was fully sober now, withdrawal slamming into her like a physical wall. She was just trying to protect us.. and I shot her. I killed an innocent dog because.. why? Because she was scared? Paranoid? A coward? Losing her damn mind? What kind of leader am I?

The image of Sparky's questioning eyes lingered in Macha's brain. Why? She told herself a million excuses. She hadn't known. How could she have know he was a synth? She was trying to do her best and protect the people that trusted her. Had trusted her. She had broken some of that today by killing Rory by accident, but somehow had redeemed herself by the fact that he was a synth. Sparky had saved her twice, for now she would be hailed as a hero instead of the monster she really was.

Guilt poured over her, suffocating Macha. It was just a dog. One she hardly knew. She had done what she thought was best at the time. This was a cold world and sometimes you had to make hard choices. She had done nothing wrong. She wasn't going to waste tears over a stupid dog. Macha stared at the rusting tin roof of her hut before turning over and curling up on her bed. She missed Hancock and needed him today of all days. The ammo box found its way into her shaking hands and more pills slid down her gullet. One. five. Seven. It wasn't enough. She still felt everything and she wanted it to stop. She clutched her pillow to her body and buried her head in it to muffle her sobs. Unbidden tears slid down her cheeks and despite her stubborn declaration, Macha cried until her body gave out and she slipped into a fitful sleep.


End file.
